Someday You'll Be Just Another Regret
by raneonthewyndoepain
Summary: Ginny has fallen in love...with Harry Potter AND Draco Malfoy? As the 2nd war begins and battle lines are drawn, will she be forced to make a choice between these two bitter rivals? Or will the choice be made for her? AU.
1. Behind the Rosebush

Disclaimer: I don't own, obviously

**Disclaimer: I don't own, obviously. This would never happen in the real books. Which, I'm guessing, is why you're here…**

There was a bang and a flash of purple light. Ginny was temporarily blinded by its brightness. When her sight was restored, she gave a scream of horror and threw herself across the lifeless body of Draco Malfoy.

"Ginny," said the disturbingly calm voice of Harry Potter, "get off him. Now!"

Ginny cradled Draco's blond head in her lap and sobbed. "Or what?" she cried, suddenly furious. "How can you possibly do more damage than you already have done?"

"Ginny-" Harry's voice was still level, but Ginny, knowing him as well as she did, could detect a hint of danger in it, and pain. She could have cared less about his pain at the moment. When at last she looked up at him, the hatred in her eyes was enough to send him staggering backwards. Seeing this, she laughed a rough, shaky laugh.

"You have no idea, do you?" she whispered. "No idea what you've done? And suddenly the contempt was gone, replaced with a bone-deep weariness. "It's my fault. I should have told you earlier. But I couldn't stand…"

"What?" roared Harry, suddenly full of rage. "What couldn't you stand?"

Ginny's eyes found Harry's, and they were filled with such sadness and regret that his wand hand shook. "I couldn't stand to lose you," she whispered. She was dimly aware of a dam breaking in her mind, and the memories that she had been holding back for so long flooded through her…

Ginny breathed in the sweet winter air, loving the way it burned her throat on the way down. She exhaled softly, carefully, and watched her crystalline breath disappear in the crisp, clean air. She remembered, as a little girl, going to the Muggle cinema in town and being fascinated with the way the lead actress smoked cigarettes. It was tough, yet feminine. With a flick of the wrist and a flicker of an eyelash, she had the leading man hopelessly entranced. Ginny had spent hours trying to mimic the action on winter mornings, only to be rewarded by her mother asking her if there was something in her eye.

She sighed. She'd led a fairly predictable life, and while she loved her parents and all of her brothers dearly, she had to admit that there were times when she longed for something more. Times when she craved adventure that didn't involve hanging one-handed from a broomstick or being the only one in her dormitory willing to kill insects without mercy. She wanted excitement, passion, romance. It was part of the reason she'd fallen so hard for Harry Potter. He was brave and attractive, yes, but he was also slightly mysterious, and that was what Ginny loved about him. She was thirteen, and she was hungry. She wanted more out of life than her fair share, which explained why she was currently freezing her arse off out here in the beautiful but very chilly garden while her classmates enjoyed the Yule Ball.

By all rights she shouldn't even be here at all. She knew Neville had only invited her because no one in his own year was willing to go with him, and she'd ditched him as soon as she could, feeling only mildly guilty. He was used to rejection, so she knew he'd be over it soon enough. What really interested her was Harry, but he seemed to be far too busy mooning over that idiot Cho Chang. What did he see in her, anyway?

Ginny was distracted from her musings by the sound of someone whistling. Her head snapped up, and to her great disgust she saw none other than the insufferable Draco Malfoy strolling towards her with an absentminded look on his face.

She was halfway tempted to trip him, partially concealed as she was behind a conveniently located rosebush, but decided it wasn't worth the effort. Instead she sat back, folded her arms, and crossed her legs, forgetting to smooth down her sapphire dress. She was unaware that the expression on her face, which plainly stated that whoever was looking at her at the moment wasn't worth her time and the fact that half her fiery hair had come unpinned from her updo and was now gracefully framing her face made her look even prettier than usual.

Ginny couldn't resist throwing out a taunt when Malfoy walked by. She loved confrontation – it was part of her nature. "Hey, Malfoy," she called softly as he walked by, still whistling, "how much do you charge for a private concert?"

Malfoy froze in mid-whistle, his pale cheeks going pink with embarrassment, and began looking around for the source of the voice. The effect was so comical that Ginny started to giggle uncontrollably, and Malfoy had soon located her beside the rosebush. She scowled at him, and he rewarded her with a knowing smirk. Ginny couldn't make head or tail of his expression until he spoke, and immediately she wished he hadn't.

"Well, well, Weasley…date ditched you, eh? Resorted to desperate measures? Tempting, but I don't mess around with blood traitors, I'm afraid…" he said, shaking his head in phony regret and motioning towards her legs. Ginny looked down and realized with horror that her skirt had ridden up, exposing several inches of her lily-white thigh. Fuming, she leapt to her feet and yanked it down, but the damage was already done. Malfoy laughed as she struggled with her dress, her cheeks blazing.

"I'd rather date dragon dung," she declared when her skirt was lying flat again. "At least it smells better than you!"

Malfoy showed all his teeth in something that did not remotely resemble a smile. "Still upset over Potter, are you?" he chided her softly. "When are you going to realize that's never going to happen? You're so obsessed with that bloody fool that you can't see what's right in front of you."

Ginny shook. How dare he call Harry a fool! "All I see in front of me is an arrogant bastard who can't seem to see that nobody wants him!" she snapped. Malfoy flushed, and she felt pleased with herself for striking a nerve. Then she shivered, and the look on his face softened.

"You must be freezing," he said, looking at her with something like concern in his eyes. "Here, take my cloak."

Ginny's jaw dropped. Draco Malfoy, being considerate? It had to be a trick. "I'm f-fine," she lied through chattering teeth.

"Don't be stupid," he scolded her gently, throwing his cloak around her trembling shoulders.

"Thanks," Ginny mumbled grudgingly. The cloak was warm, and as she wrapped it tighter around her, she caught a trace of his smell. It reminded her of woodsmoke and fall leaves – infinitely better than dragon dung.

"Don't mention it."

They walked in companionable silence back to Hogwarts. When they neared the entrance, Ginny slipped regretfully out of his cloak and handed it back to him. He gave her a look that she didn't understand, and then without so much as a wave goodbye, walked briskly into Hogwarts, presumably to rejoin the dance.

Ginny stood there stock-still and listened to the faint call of an owl hooting into the darkness. She wasn't sure what had just happened – in fact, she was inclined to believe the whole encounter had been some strange product of her bored imagination. Uprooting her feet, she made her way into the Great Hall, where she laughed and danced with more than her share of boys while older, plainer girls watched jealously from the sidelines. But when she kicked off her heels and fell into her four-poster that night, she wasn't thinking of Dean Thomas' jokes or Michael Corners' good looks. Instead, she fell asleep with the scent of woodsmoke and the sound of Malfoy's laugh filling her mind with dangerous thoughts…


	2. A Little Fresh Air

It was a brisk February night, and Ginny was curled comfortably in an armchair in Gryffindor Tower. Her vacant eyes reflected the flickering flames of the fire that cackled merrily before her. Despite the cheeriness it seemed to exude, it provided little warmth, and goose bumps had risen on Ginny's arms. But she barely registered that she was cold, being too absorbed in one of her favorite fantasies in which Harry rescued her from the lake during the Second Task and then confessed to being madly in love with her. She was embarrassed of this daydream and had never admitted to a soul how much she wanted to be the thing that Harry would most miss. She closed her eyes and let her head rest on the back of the chair. _He probably wouldn't even notice if I was gone, _she thought glumly, and then just as she was mentally chastising herself for wasting so much time thinking about him, she heard the creak of the portrait swing open.

Ginny opened her eyes just a sliver. _Speak of the devil, _she thought. But she couldn't help noticing that he was alone. Irritated with herself, she pretended to be asleep. She heard footsteps, and the butterflies in her stomach fluttered feebly. They beat their wings harder when the footsteps stopped beside her chair. There was a pause. Then someone covered her with a blanket. The butterflies in her stomach were more like Cornish pixies now, treating her intestines like a trampoline. The person hesitated for a moment. She could feel his warm presence near her. Then he walked away.

Ginny couldn't resist. She opened her eyes a crack and snuck a peek at the person's retreating back. Disappointment wrapped its icy fingers around her heart and squeezed.

It was Neville.

Ginny dozed fitfully. When she awoke, the common room was empty and the fire had been reduced to embers. Feeling reckless, she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and stepped out through the portrait hole. She stole silently through the sleeping castle, not sure of her destination. Then she had an idea.

The stairs of the Astronomy tower were long and winding, but Ginny skipped up them with ease, fear giving her feet wings. Once she reached the top, she shut the wooden door behind her, her heart racing. Then she looked up at the sky and her nervousness was forgotten. A soft sigh escaped her as she sank against a wall and slid to the floor, a warm contentedness filling her. Ginny hated astronomy, but she loved the stars. She loved the fact that some of them might be gone by the time their light reached the earth. They were dead, but their contribution to the universe remained, and it was beautiful. She doubted any human could have such a lasting impact. And the moon was always so sad and lonely and beautiful. She thought she knew how it must feel, watching the world go on without being a part of it, its glory simply reflected starlight, a poor facsimile of the original.

Ginny was pulled out of her reverie by the sound of footsteps on the stars. She stood, her heart drumming a staccato beat against her ribs. She pulled out her wand and stood next to the door, hoping against hope that the person would open it wide enough so that she would be concealed behind it. _What a stupid thing to be expelled over, _she thought despairingly, _stupid, stupid…_

The door opened. Ginny held her breath. The person stepped out of the doorway, and she could see the moonlight shining on his blond hair. Ginny let out all her breath in a whoosh, and he spun around.

"Weasley?" Malfoy cried, obviously just as startled as she was.

His voice was loud enough to send a few nearby owls flying away from their perch. Ginny held a finger to her lips and shut the door gently behind him. When she spoke, it was in a whisper.

"Yes, it's me, but be quiet or we'll be found. What're you doing here?"

Malfoy shot her a look that was shrewd, calculating, and curious all at once. "I could ask you the same question."

"I asked you first."

Malfoy noticed the set of her jaw, the hard, blazing look in her eyes, and knew that he wasn't going to win this one. "If you must know, I thought it would be a nice night for a bit of stargazing," he said, trying to sound bored and pretentious as usual, but his voice fell flat, and Ginny knew, without knowing how she knew, that he was telling the truth.

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously all the same, and he gave a little shrug and a nervous grin. "Going to turn me in, are you?" he teased.

Ginny was not in the mood. "You know perfectly well I can't, I'd get in at least as much trouble myself." she snapped.

"Oh, yeah," said Malfoy knowledgably, "Got in trouble for that myself first year."

Ginny was intrigued despite herself. "Oh?" she inquired, trying to sound nonchalant, but she knew by the way Malfoy's lips turned upward slightly at one end that she hadn't quite managed it.

They ended up talking for two hours, sitting on the blanket that she'd brought. Ginny discovered that Malfoy was actually pretty easygoing once you got past his attitude, which, granted, took a bit of work. But under the layers of arrogance there was a real live person. She was shocked to find that he was funny and sweet and deeply vulnerable. The longer they talked, the more and more convinced Ginny became that his whole personality was just an act to hide his insecurity. But she wasn't sure of it until he talked about his love for the stars.

"They just seem so…mysterious, you know?" he said earnestly, looking at the sky like it was a puzzle that could be solved. "But comforting. They're always there when you need them. Not like some people I know," he added bitterly. Without thinking, Ginny reached for his hand and covered it with her own. He shot her a startled look, but didn't pull away. Instead, he laced his fingers with hers and tentatively put an arm around her. The butterflies were back. She defied them by laying her head on his shoulder and considering the heavens once again. They were quiet for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts, and then Ginny broke the silence.

"Do you ever wonder if the moon knows something we don't? If it knows our…secrets?"

Draco hesitated, then cleared his throat. "I know one secret the moon doesn't know," he whispered.

Ginny pulled away slightly and looked at him, hard, but he was still focused on the moon. "What's that?" she asked.

At last, he tore his eyes away from the sky. "I think you're beautiful," he admitted quietly, and kissed her.

After she got over the initial shock, Ginny leaned into him and kissed him back, the feel of his lips on hers sending a thrill throughout her entire body. One of his hands was cradling her head and the other was supporting her back as he gently lowered her to the ground.

Ginny lost track of time as they kissed, at first slowly, sweetly, then faster and more feverishly. She felt the passion surging through her, the kind of adventure she'd always craved. She imagined herself a cartographer, her hands mapping the landscape of Draco's back. She felt the thrill in her hip with Draco's hand rested there, felt her skin quiver with delight as it slid under her shirt-

And then he broke away, gasping, and rolled off of her. Ginny sat up.

"What's wrong?"

He sat with his back to her, his knees bent, clutching two handfuls of his silvery hair. Ginny scooted closer and started to massage his shoulders. He relaxed slightly under her skillful touch, and feeling playful, she kissed his neck. His muscles tensed again.

"Don't," he said, and there was genuine pain in his voice.

Ginny was surprised. "Why?"

He swung around to face her and surprised her with a brief, fierce kiss. "If we stay up here much longer," he said between kisses, "we're going to end up doing things we shouldn't."

Ginny considered this for a moment. "What kinds of things?" she asked, curiosity getting the best of her. She wondered if it was obvious how new she was at this.

He raised his eyebrows at her. She blushed. Oh. This time, she was the one to turn away. She felt slightly hurt, but mostly embarrassed.

"Hey, hey," there was Draco's soothing voice in her ear, his warm hands around her waist. "I like you, Ginny," he said. "I like you a lot. Which is why I want to take things slow…okay?

"Okay." Her voice sounded small and foreign to her own ears, but she allowed Draco to pull her to her feet and kiss her again. He retrieved the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders once more. Hand in hand, they tiptoed down the steps of the Astronomy tower. Before they reached the corridor and had to go their separate ways, Draco pulled her aside, into a shadowy corner for one last, breathless kiss.

"Tomorrow," he said in her ear when it was over. "That broom closet on the fourth floor. After dinner."

Could she wait that long? She would have to. Ginny nodded to show him she understood. He kissed her forehead, then slipped away from her, saying overdramatically, "Goodbye, my love…parting is such sweet sorrow, that I say goodnight 'till it be morrow!" She laughed and blew him a kiss, and then made her way back to Gryffindor tower, grinning like a fool. She crept into her own dormitory and slipped under the sheets, closing her eyes just as the first rays of dawn were beginning to fill the sky with light.

**A/N: I know Sirius said in Order of the Phoenix that all pureblood families are related, but in my AU world I have decided that Ginny and Draco were tied to each other only by a marriage that ended in divorce. I'm fairly sure that it was only a distant relation anyway, but I hate the idea of "kissing cousins" so I decided to play it safe. I'm really pleased with the way this story is going, but if you're not, the only way to tell me is by reviewing. (Hint, hint.) So drop me a line, tell me what you think. Takes what, two seconds? Okay. Done ranting. Cheers. **


	3. Why Intrigue Is Always A Disaster

Ginny was awoken a few hours later by being clobbered over the head with a pillow. She mumbled something about five more minutes, only to be rewarded with a resounding thwack. Struggling to sit up, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, blinking, and found her best friend sitting on her bed, fully-dressed and looking far too cheerful for seven-thirty in the morning.

"Get up, you lazy sod!" Margaret shrieked, brandishing the pillow and cackling in a way that was presumably supposed to be evil-sounding. "Or else."

"Or else what?"

"Or else…or else…or else Ann will eat all your chocolates!" Margaret finished triumphantly at the rather chubby girl sitting cross-legged on the four-poster next to Ginny. Ann promptly turned an endearing shade of ink and stammered, "I wouldn't eat any, Ginny, I swear."

"I know, Ann," said Ginny kindly, aware of the fact that Ann wasn't likely to be receiving Valentine's gifts anytime soon. She opened the box that Margaret had dumped in her lap and offered a coconut truffle to Ann. She knew that the other girl loved coconut, and she wasn't disappointed. There was a creaking of bedsprings, a muffled, "Thanks, Ginny," and then Ann was licking her fingers.

Ginny turned her attention to the bouquet of red roses and found what she was looking for: an envelope addressed simply to "Ginny." Heart racing, she tore open the envelope, her feverish eyes drinking in the words almost faster than her mind could process them. When she had scanned the letter twice, she gave a little sigh and let it flutter to the floor. Predictably, Margaret snatched it up.

"Dearest Ginny," she read aloud in a bad fake voice, stopping every now and then to erupt into giggles. "Can't stop thinking about you ever since that night at the Yule Ball. You looked beautiful, as always. Can you meet me in the garden just outside Hogsmeade tonight at five? Sincerely, your secret admirer." Margaret looked up from the letter, her eyes shining. "Ginny, please tell me you're going!"

Ginny opened her mouth to respond, but Ann beat her to the punch. "I don't think you should, Ginny," she said firmly. "It might be dangerous."

"Oh shut up, you fat cow," snapped Margaret irritably. Ginny gasped, and Ann's eyes glistened with tears. "Excuse me," she mumbled, before fleeing to the washroom.

"That was completely unnecessary!" exclaimed Ginny in anger.

Margaret rolled her eyes. "Very necessary, I'd say. Don't try to pretend she wasn't bugging you too, I hate when you act all nice around me."

Ginny had to admit she was right, Ann had been annoying her, but that didn't make Margaret's comment any less unsolicited, and she told her so. "You should go apologize," she scolded, adding, when Margaret looked doubtful, "she'll mope for days otherwise."

"True," said Margaret dispassionately. "Be right back then. We can discuss your secret admirer." She winked at Ginny to let her know she wasn't getting off that easy and sauntered off to the loo. With her pale skin, dark hair, and big brown eyes, Margaret was never short on admirers herself.

Ginny let out the breath she'd been holding in a long whoosh and studied the letter intently once more. Could it be Draco? Had he perhaps sent the letter before last night? Ginny's heart soared at the thought, but she made herself stay calm. The only way to find out for sure was to meet this secret admirer.

Clouds had gathered after Ginny had gone to sleep, and the air was crisp and clean with the anticipation of snow. She breathed in deeply and pulled her wool coat with the oversized buttons tighter around her, adjusting her scarf and her jaunty black beret. The air felt full of promises today, and Ginny was excited in spite of herself as she passed through Hogwart's wrought iron gates and started off down the path to Hogsmeade, Margaret chattering happily at her side.

It was four-thirty when they finally stumbled out of Three Broomsticks to find a world transformed into an ethereal paradise. The snow had been falling thick and fast all day, but now it had softened to a light patter on their rosy cheeks. Laughing, they stuck out their tongues and tried to catch the crystalline snowflakes.

"You'd better go," said Margaret suddenly, glancing at her wristwatch. "You don't want to be late for your date." She winked again and wiggled her bum suggestively. Ginny laughed and shoved her playfully. Then the two friends went their separate ways.

Ginny trudged on through the snow, which was heavier now. She was beginning to wonder if this was such a good idea after all when she heard voices coming from a nearby alley. Curious, she peered around the corner, and what she saw made her breath catch in her throat.

Malfoy was wrapped around Pansy Parkinson, the two of them pressed up against a brick wall, completely oblivious to Ginny's presence. The two of them were arguing.

"What about that Ginny Weasely? I heard a rumor you like her."

Malfoy laughed coldly. "Me? Like that stupid little redhead? You've got to be kidding, Pansy." His words were like daggers to the heart, but Ginny couldn't tear herself away. "I don't date Gryffindors, and I certainly don't date blood traitors. You're the one that matters. She's nothing to me. Nothing."

That last word echoed in Ginny's ears as she ran blindly through the snow, hot, salty tears sliding down her cheeks. Ginny hardly ever cried, but this was different. It felt like her heart was being ripped out of her chest. She ran until her legs felt like they were on fire, and then she collapsed on a bench in a garden outside of town, sobbing. The sky was beginning to darken when she felt someone else's presence, and looked up.

"Ginny? Are you alright?" asked Michael Corner awkwardly. He held up two bottles of butterbeer. "Hope you didn't think I stood you up."

Ginny gave a watery little laugh and dried her face on her sleeve, then patted the bench beside her. Michael sat down and handed her a butterbeer, which she drank as greedily as a person who is dying of thirst. Then she turned to Michael.

"You're my secret admirer." It was a statement, not a question, but he nodded, anyway. Ginny didn't wait for him to complicate the space between them with words. Feeling reckless, she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips, lightly. He put his arms around her and kissed her back, and Ginny wondered why it was that, warm as she was in the arms of one of the most fanciable boys in fourth year, she felt so cold inside.


	4. Secret Agent Boy

Days passed, then weeks. Ginny kept busy and tried not to think about Draco, but it wasn't easy. The first time she passed him in the corridor, their eyes met for a moment, and the expression on his face wasn't gloating or indifferent. In fact, he almost looked…hurt. But the next second he was laughing and talking with his friends, and Ginny was sure he had imagined it.

During the day Ginny had plenty to occupy her mind, but at night she had trouble sleeping. She'd never been prone to insomnia, usually just falling asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, but now it was different. She kept remembering the feel of Draco's warm hands on her back, the sound of his voice telling her she was beautiful. Sometimes she even caught herself daydreaming about him during lessons, and had to shake her head to make herself snap out of it.

One day after potions, she was slowly climbing the stairs to the dining hall. Margaret was in the hospital wing with a bad case of food poisoning, so Ginny was alone, dragging her feet and thinking about a certain blond-haired Slytherin once again. She was slightly startled upon looking up to see Michael coming down the stairs toward her, but not surprised. He had this annoying habit of meeting her after lessons.

"Hi," she said halfheartedly after he'd kissed her hello. She tried for a smile but by the expression on Michael's face she simply looked like she was about to be sick.

"Baby, what's wrong?" he asked, grasping her shoulders and looking right into her eyes. Ginny wished he would stop touching her. She wished he wasn't so nice so she wouldn't feel like such a royal bitch. She wished a lot of things. It never did any good.

Michael was still looking at her expectantly. "Nothing," she replied, trying to sound cheerful. He didn't look convinced, so Ginny kissed him to stop him saying anything else. "I'm fine," she insisted when they broke apart. She even cracked a smile. Michael grinned. "There's my little ray of sunshine," he teased, wrapping his arms around her again. Ginny relaxed and laid her head on his shoulder. This wasn't so bad, really. Nothing like how she felt for Draco or even Harry for that matter, but you couldn't have everything…

Someone cleared their throat. Ginny opened her eyes and was horrified to see Draco standing there, holding a stack of textbooks and looking like he'd been forced to swallow cod-liver oil. "Excuse me," he said in a bored voice.

"Sorry," Ginny hissed, yanking Michael out of the way. Before she knew it, however, Draco tripped and went sprawling, textbooks flying everywhere. Michael laughed cruelly. Ginny could have slapped him, but restrained herself with some difficulty. "Catch you later, Michael," she called over her shoulder as she hurried over to help Draco.

"Whatever," he muttered, and turned away. Ginny sighed with relief as the last echo of his footsteps faded.

"I thought he'd never leave. Are you all right?" Ginny saw that Draco's cheek was bleeding. She touched it gingerly with her fingertips. He flinched, snatched the book she was holding away from her, and stood up.

"Fine, thanks," he said shortly, and started to walk away. But Ginny couldn't leave it like that. "That's it?" she called after him. "No apologies, no explanations?"

He paused, turned to face her. "What have I got to apologize for?" he asked bitterly. "Or did you forget who stood who up on Valentine's Day?"

Fury surged through Ginny's veins. How dare he act like he was the injured party? "After you told Pansy Parkinson I meant nothing to you, I thought it was okay to break the date. Or was that rude?" She walked toward him, the sound of her footsteps like gunshots on the stone floor. "Should I have waited until you explained that you didn't date 'blood traitors' to decide you weren't worth my time? You make me sick, you arrogant, lying son of a - "

She never got to finish her sentence because he swooped in and kissed her, dropping all of the textbooks again in the process. And the feel of his lips on hers was sweet oblivion, her eyes drifted shut as he gathered her up in his arms-

With an enormous effort, Ginny pulled away. "Don't," she said brokenly. "Don't think you can just kiss me and make everything all right again. I'm not going to just fall into your arms without any explanation. I'm not that kind of girl."

He gave a tired sort of smile. "I know that, Ginny. It's one of the many things I like about you. But you gotta give me a chance. It's complicated, and very secret."

She snorted. "What are you, some kind of spy?"

He didn't say a word, just looked at her. Ginny stared back. He sighed, then walked into an empty classroom and gestured for her to follow. She did so warily, keeping one hand near her wand at all times. _Never trust a Slytherin, _her brother's voices echoed in her ears. He shut the door behind her, but Ginny did not feel ill at ease. Draco wasn't just any Slytherin, after all. He sat on a desk, then got up and paced.

"This is incredibly important, okay? You can't tell anyone. God, I shouldn't even be telling you, but it can't really be helped, I don't know what else to do…"

Ginny was growing impatient with his rambling. At last he settled himself on the desk next to her and got to the point.

"My father was a Death Eater, Ginny. He worked for Voldemort. He wants me to follow in our family's glorious tradition of Dark wizards. But I don't want power, and I don't want to see people suffer. There's no happiness in that. Professor Snape taught me that, when I first came to Hogwarts. He showed me that I could choose another path. I could choose to be different from my father."

He paused, took a deep breath. Ginny didn't interrupt.

"I was…reluctant at first. Scared to step out of my family's shadow. But then I realized that I didn't want to be like them. I wanted to be one of the good guys."

Ginny was beginning to believe him. He was displaying such raw honesty, speaking with a sincerity that couldn't be faked, his eyes bright and hopeful as he glanced her way.

"This year, I was ready to ditch my old friends and make a fresh start. But the first day of term, Professor Snape took me aside. He told me that…funny things were starting to happen. He asked me to keep an eye on my friends…and my father. I agreed."

Draco hesitated again. When he next spoke, his words came slower and softer.

"Naturally, this meant I had to make certain sacrifices. I had to keep hanging out with the same old stupid people, had to keep acting like a jerk 24/7. But then you came around, and I let my guard down a little. I started to think that you could make it all worth it. Everything I've had to do. Was I wrong?"

He looked so sweet and earnest then, like a little boy who's made a mess and he knows it and he's sorry. And Ginny found that she couldn't stay mad at him. She kissed him lightly, sweetly, and that was the only answer he needed. He put his arms around her and pulled her close before kissing her long and deep, and she forgot everything. She forgot that he had hurt her, she forgot that this was insanity, she forgot that she had a boyfriend. She forgot everything except the feel of his lips and the softness of his hair, because he was the cure for her sleepless nights, and him alone.


	5. I Never Thought It Would Be Like This

**Disclaimer: Please don't read if you are easily disturbed, freaked out, etc. Know that I hated writing this chapter, and you will hate reading it. I didn't want to do it, but it was necessary. Please remember this, and don't hate me or give up on the story. All wrongs will be (mostly) righted in the end, I promise. Thank you, and please review. **

Ginny stumbled back into the nearly empty common room late that night feeling tired but perfectly happy. She hadn't had a bite to eat since noon, but somehow she wasn't hungry. As soon as she saw Michael, however, her good mood evaporated. She didn't question how he'd gotten into Gryffindor tower; he was very popular and someone would have let him in even if she hadn't confessed the password last week.

He was sitting in a chair beside the fire, flames flickering on a face that seemed carved out of stone. "I waited for you at dinner."

"Oh, yeah, sorry. I had to go to the library. To return a book. You know how Madam Pince gets –" Ginny babbled incoherently. From the murderous look on his face, she could tell Michael wasn't buying it. She cast her eyes around the room, trying to find someone to help her out of this mess, but there was no one.

"Who were you with, Ginny?"

She was out of practice with rearranging her expression. "What?" she gasped weakly, trying to sound surprised. In truth, the only shock was that he'd figured it out so quickly.

"I know you were with someone. Who?" His fists were balled at his sides and his eyes were full of black fury. Ginny started to answer, but Michael cut her off with a growl of rage. He took a step toward her, and Ginny's hand crept toward her wand pocket.

"You know what? It doesn't matter who it was. I know what you were doing, you filthy little slut, and tomorrow the whole school will know it, too."

Ginny had had enough. Without thinking she whipped her wand out of her cloak and searched her mind for a suitable spell, but Michael was quicker.

"Expelliarmus!" he snarled, and Ginny's wand was wrenched out of her hand to soar across the room, landing mercifully a few feet away from the fire. Ginny made a dash for it, but Michael's wand slashed through the air and she bounced off an invisible wall, taking a hard fall onto the floor. Dazed, Ginny registered only that the carpet was soft against her cheek. She could see Michael's feet moving closer, and then he crouched down beside her.

"No need to run, Ginny dear," he whispered, the madness clear in his wild eyes. Ginny tried to cry out, but she had barely opened her mouth when Michael clapped his palm over it.

_"Silencio,_" he commanded in a harsh whisper, and Ginny felt her throat acquiesce even as her mind screamed for release. Bereft of her wand, she was exactly as strong as a normal thirteen year-old girl, and she had never felt more helpless as he pinned her effortlessly to the ground. The whole scene felt surreal, as if it were happening to someone else. She watched with a curious detachment as her cloak was lifted over her head, her favorite shirt shredded, and her tightly clasped legs wrenched apart…

The best that could be said of it was that it was over quickly. Although it felt like an eternity to her, Ginny knew that it couldn't have been more than ten minutes before he finished and stood up, grinning. Then his expression turned serious.

"You tell anyone about this, and you're dead. Do you hear me? I'll kill you."

Ginny thought she managed to nod, although it might have been lost in the chills that shook her body. At any rate, it seemed to satisfy Michael, because he grinned again. Ginny thought she might be sick. She tried to lay still and motionless as he gathered up her clothes and threw them into the fire. Then he walked jauntily out of the common room, whistling all the while.

She was never sure how long she laid there, naked and shivering, before the fear of embarrassment coupled with fear of Michael forced her to move. The fire had been reduced to a few embers half hidden beside dark coals when she at last struggled to her feet and donned her cloak, which had been left intact beside the fireplace. It was in that moment, when she was struggling with the clasp, that the reality of what had happened struck her. It was as if she had suddenly fallen back into her body with a resounding _thunk. _Abandoning her quest to fix the catch, Ginny limped up the stairs to her soft four-poster, wracked with silent sobs.


	6. The Secret War

The pale gray light of dawn fell on Ginny's face like a sigh, but did not stir her from the sleep she had succumbed to only a few hours before. Instead, she was awoken by her best friend's cheery morning voice:

"Ginny! Get up, sleepyhead. It's nearly six thirty."

Ginny felt the strangest sensation in her limbs, like she was falling, but slowly. Sinking. Opening her eyes took all the strength she had, and even that smallest action sent a spasm of phantom pain shooting through her abdomen. Her own voice sounded distant, as though the words were drawn up from a well deep inside her chest.

"I don't…feel well."

Maybe Margaret could detect the pain in her friend's voice, or maybe she just thought it strange that Ginny wasn't her usual sparkling self. Either way, she stopped rummaging in her trunk for her favorite scarf and went over to sit on Ginny's bed.

"What's wrong?"

Ginny didn't know how to even begin to tell her.

"Ginny?"

As soon as she opened her mouth, her throat constricted. She felt as though she were still bewitched, even though she knew the spell must have worn off hours ago. "Nn..nothing," she managed to gasp. "Just a little tired. Go on without me."

Margaret looked concerned. "You sure you're okay?"

It hurt Ginny to lie to her friend, but she had no choice. "Fine," she confirmed, a little more harshly than she intended, and perhaps it was the sharpness of her tone that convinced Margaret.

"Okay," she said, still a little doubtfully, but willing to take Ginny at her word. She wasn't the kindest girl in her year – her constant teasing of Ann could attest to that – but she never lied, and to her knowledge, neither did Ginny. She couldn't have been more wrong – lying was a self-defense mechanism when you lived with Fred and George – but this time was different. This time it hurt Ginny to lie, not the other way around.

Still, she was glad when her friend left her in peace at last. She knew she should use this time to think, to plot revenge against the bastard who had done this to her, but instead she just rolled over and cried herself to sleep.

When Ginny next opened her eyes it was midmorning. The day had dawned bright and cold, and she shivered despite her thick duvet. Throwing off the covers like a band-aid that's seen better days, she sat up, shrugged into her dressing gown, and stood.

It wasn't as bad as she thought. She was no sorer than she was after a particularly rough game of Quidditch. She stumbled into the washroom and made the water as hot as she could stand. It felt heavenly on her goosebump-riddled skin. Trying not to think about the previous night proved difficult. It wasn't until she looked down to retrieve the pesky bar of soap that had slipped out of her hands that she realized she had scrubbed her stomach nearly raw.

Ginny shut off the water and stepped onto the thick rug, wrapping a thick towel around her slender form. She slid to the floor and placed her head between her knees to stop it from spinning.

She could never tell anyone. That much was obvious. She would have to pretend that It had never happened. She would ignore him. Forget that she ever knew his name. She would have to suppress her ferocious thirst for revenge. She could never slip, never falter, never let her true pain show.

This was Ginny's true war, the one she refused to lose. And she would fight to forget the memory of It every single day.

Even if it took the rest of her life.


	7. I'd Rather Die Than Hurt You

Ginny lay on her back beneath the endless blue bowl of the sky. Her eyes were closed, but a smile lingered around her lips, as though she was dreaming of something pleasant. In reality she was just enjoying the feel of the sun warming her skin, making her feel light and alive. It was one of those April days that makes you feel as though summer is just around the corner, and Ginny intended to enjoy it.

"Ginny!" called her favorite voice in the universe. Her eyelids flickered open, and she sat up. Draco was striding towards her, wearing what she liked to call his lottery grin. It was the sort of smile you would wear upon finding out you'd just won a large sum of money, and he wore it a lot when he looked at her. This simple fact made her happier than she ever thought she could be, but that happiness was marred by the unwelcome question that haunted her late at night: what would his face look like if he knew? Ginny pushed the errant thought away, not wanting her past to spoil today.

"Hey," she called back to him, excitement making her voice squeak. Then, unable to restrain herself, she sprang up blithely and skipped over to jump into his arms. He laughed and lifted her off her feet, burying his face in her hair and spinning her around. Ginny giggled, then her face grew serious.

"Did anyone follow you here?"

Draco shook his head, his smile never wavering. "No, my love. All clear." A shiver of delight went through her at the sound of "my love", but then he leaned in to kiss her, and for a moment Ginny lost her train of thought completely as his arms tightened around her and his lips brushed hers, anchoring her to him, holding her there…

– _holding her to him. His grip tightened, she couldn't get away, but she didn't want this, why didn't he understand, WHY WOULDN'T HE STOP HURTING HER – _

Panicked, gasping, Ginny broke the kiss, struggled to get out of Draco's grasp. At first his arms were nonresponsive, but then she shoved him, and he got the message pretty quick. Stumbling backward, his expression cycled from hurt to confusion and back to hurt again. His pain was like a stab wound to Ginny's chest, but she was distracted from it by the fire in her veins, the terrible memories that overwhelmed her…

"Ginny?" His voice was careful, his face composed once more. "Ginny, what's wrong?" He sounded worried now.

Shaking her head violently, Ginny held up a hand for him to be quiet. Then she swayed like she was about to faint. Draco caught her in a moment, lowering her to the ground with ease. Tenderly he supported her shoulders, falling onto his knees so that her head was in his lap. "Ginny!" he cried, his voice panicked. His hands were frantic, stroking her hair gently but much too quickly to be soothing. "Ginny, wake up!"

Her eyelids fluttered, she came awake with a moan. And then she was sobbing as Draco rocked her back and forth in his sturdy, safe arms, and the whole terrible story, the events of more than a year ago now, came flooding out of her in broken pieces. At some point during the telling Draco's arms grew stiff, and he let out a wordless scream of fury and pain. Although he didn't stop rocking her, Ginny was afraid to look at his face. At last, when it was done, she gathered her courage and looked up.

She wasn't prepared for the rage that transformed his features, the murder in his eyes, and at first it scared her. When at last she was calm enough to speak, she asked, in the smallest voice possible, "What are you going to do, Draco?"

He looked down at her, and by some miracle he managed to smile, though it did not reach his eyes. She could see the effort it cost him, and it hurt her so deeply that if she'd ever doubted that she loved him before, she knew it now. He pushed her hair out of her face and kissed her forehead before answering.

"I'm going to make you safe," he promised, his eyes never leaving her face. "And then I'm going to kill him."


	8. Déjà Vu

It wasn't until later that Ginny realized it might have been a good idea to try and talk him out of it. But then again, she didn't realize he was serious until it was far too late, and they were almost at the castle.

He hadn't wanted her to come with him, of course, but she insisted. She walked beside him, her hand wound around his, and she didn't care what it looked like. She barely noticed the odd looks and the whispering as they made their way to the Great Hall. Several times she tried to talk to Draco, but he responded only by squeezing her hand. Still, the slight anxious feeling in her stomach didn't become full blown panic until they rounded a corner and there_ he_ was. The subject of all her nightmares, her old tormentor. He was laughing and chatting with his friends when they happened upon him, and greeted Draco and Ginny with an amused expression on his face.

"Hey, Git," Draco called in a tightly controlled voice, his jaw clenched, "a word, if you please."

Michael's friends looked at him in some confusion, but he waved them off, saying, "Don't worry about it, guys. I'll catch up to you in a minute." One girl, a tiny Hufflepuff who couldn't be more than thirteen, was reluctant to leave and dawdled a little after everyone else had gone. With a wink at Ginny, he pulled her to his side quite possessively and whispered something in her ear. The girl looked dazed, and hurried off with a silly little smile on her face. Ginny could see Michael checking her out as she left, and felt violently sick. She could feel Draco shaking with rage beside her as Michael turned to them with a broad smile on his face.

"Right, so what's this about? I have, er, an appointment to get to and I don't want to be late," he informed them, still grinning.

"I think you know what it's about," said Draco coldly. Ginny felt dizzy. She tugged on Draco's arm, but he gently unclasped their fingers and gave her a look that plainly said, _I've got this, don't worry. _But Ginny couldn't help it, she was worried. In fact, she'd pretty much blown right past worry in favor of a full-blown panic attack.

Michael sighed. "I suppose I do," he admitted. "But I have to admit, I didn't think it would come to this. I assumed Ginny would know better…but now I suppose I'll just have to kill you both."

"You will never touch her," Draco stated quite calmly, as though they were discussing who was favored to win the Quidditch world cup.

Michael laughed. It was a chilling, mirthless sound. "To the contrary," he disagreed, matching Draco's calm flawlessly, "I think after you're out of the picture things will be much less complicated. In fact, Ginny and I may even have a little more _fun _before the show's over…you remember _fun, _don't you, Ginny?" he asked, with a wicked, eager light in his eyes.

Ginny felt her knees go weak. She stumbled back against the railing of the landing they currently occupied. Her vision blurred, and all sounds seemed to come from far away. Dimly, she perceived Draco's roar of fury, and witnessed jets of light arcing across the balcony, but she had no idea who was winning or how long she lay there slumped against the staircase, her breath coming in short, choked gasps. At last, she heard someone coming toward her and looked up.

It was Michael. He laughed cruelly at her expression of horror, the way tears slid down her cheeks when she saw Draco lying motionless in a corner. She reached for her wand, but one flick of Michael's sent in soaring away from her, and suddenly she was reliving her worst nightmare. Clenching her fists, Ginny resolved not to go down without a fight. Painstakingly she pulled herself to her feet and looked Michael right in the eye, her chin held high and her shoulders squared. He laughed again at what he perceived as false bravado.

"So feisty, Ginny, that's what I always liked about you," he said, his voice a low, seductive purr. "Such a shame I'm going to have to get rid of you…a real waste. But there's no reason I shouldn't enjoy myself before you go, eh?"

Ginny was shaking with fear, but she knew she had to be strong and not falter in her resolve. "Someone will come," she said, more to herself than Michael. _Scream! Do it now before he has a chance to charm you again! _She opened her mouth and sucked air into her lungs, but Michael didn't even lift his wand.

"Don't bother to scream," he said softly, insidiously. "I already charmed this whole corridor. No one will hear. No one will come running to save you. It's just you and me now, darling…and we're going to have a good time."

Ginny felt all the air go out of her in a whoosh. She knew it would be useless to fight, but she tried to run anyway. She sprinted towards Draco, but Michael caught her before she was halfway across the balcony. She struggled in his arms, but he hit her around the face, a mean punch that sent her flying. Still, she didn't cry out. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction. Instead, she let out only a sigh as her head collided with the cold stone and she succumbed to the blessed relief of unconsciousness.


	9. This Ain't a Scene

…**it's a goddamn arm's race. **

**Not Ginny's POV, for obvious reasons.**

**________________________________________________________________________**

Michael watched with amusement as Ginny's head hit the floor. He would have enjoyed the struggle, but he had plenty to look forward to tonight. He thought of the little Hufflepuff girl, Charlotte, and grinned. It was easier this way, really, he realized, adjusting his plan. Less messy.

He bent over Ginny and, brushing her cherry-colored hair out of her face, aimed his wand straight between her eyes.

"_Obliviate,"_ he commanded.

________________________________________________________________________

Theoretically, Draco knew he should be dead, but his head hurt far too much for that. He groaned and opened his eyes to see Michael crouched over Ginny with his wand pointing at her face. Draco felt a rush of anger flood his veins, and acted without thinking. Flinging himself to his feet, he snatched up his wand and shouted the first spell that came into his head. The one he knew would cause the most pain.

_"Crucio!" _he cried.

________________________________________________________________________

Harry stumbled upon a very strange scene that Saturday. In fact, he wasn't sure at first if his eyes were deceiving him. It looked a lot like Draco Malfoy standing on a balcony with Ginny Weasely at his feet, his wand trained on Michael Corner, who was writhing on the floor, screaming in pain. As soon as Draco saw Harry, however, an odd expression crossed his face. He lowered his wand immediately, and Michael's agonized shouts faded to whimpers and moans. Still, he didn't drop his wand entirely. Instead, he stood warily with his legs firmly planted in front of Ginny. His eyes blazed with an odd light when he looked down at her. Almost…defensive. Then he looked back at Harry and the expression was gone. He raised his wand, and his lips parted as if to utter a spell. But Harry beat him to it.

_"Expelliarmus!" _he shouted.

**A/N: Well, that was action-filled. I have so many ideas for this story; I'm really excited to write the next chapter. It will probably be from Harry's perspective, and a challenge to stay in character, but I'll do my best. **

**I'm not one of those people who's going to hold readers hostage for reviews, but I'm beginning to wonder whether anyone reads this story at all. If you do, please leave a review and let me know what you think. Thanks. **


	10. A Rescue of Sorts

Malfoy's wand soared out of his hand in a high arc. Harry heard it clatter to a landing on a lower balcony, but he never took his eyes off his least favorite Slytherin.

"Explain yourself," Harry ordered, but Malfoy had scarcely opened his mouth with Michael staggered to his feet. "Harry!" he cried, his breathing ragged. "Thank god you've come, I didn't know what to do, he was going to kill me!"

To Harry's surprise, Malfoy didn't deny the accusation. "Too right I was," he growled, his voice rough. "In fact, I'd finish the job right now if Potter'd let me," he added, his face twisted with hate. His fists were clenched at his side, as though the effort of not strangling Michael was causing him physical pain. With effort, he wrenched his gaze away from the cowering Hufflepuff and locked eyes with Harry.

"Potter," he said, and the usual haughty tone was completely absent. Instead, his voice sounded raw, almost pleading. "I only tortured him because he deserved it. He…hurt…Ginny, and I couldn't let that stand. It wouldn't be right. I'm not asking you to let me have a go at him," he added hastily, correctly interpreting the incredulous look in Harry's eyes, "but I am asking you to believe me. Please. I know I haven't exactly been a friend to you these past five years…" (Harry snorted, but Malfoy continued as if the interruption hadn't occurred) "but I'll swear to any god you can think of that I'm telling the truth now. Please believe me, if not for me then for her," he finished, inclining his head toward Ginny. There was such tenderness in his eyes when he looked at her, such unquestionable sincerity in his tone that for a moment Harry almost believed him. Almost. Then reality came rushing back. This was _Malfoy, _for Christ's sake. Was there anything he wasn't capable of. No line he wouldn't cross.

Suddenly, Harry was aware of Ginny, who was still lying broken on the balcony. A wave of concern washed over him. She looked so small and fragile the way she was, crumpled up on the floor. With that in mind, Harry advanced slowly up the staircase, gesturing at Malfoy with his wand as he did so. "Back away slowly," he ordered. Malfoy shot a look at Michael, who was still standing relatively close, and planted his feet, making it clear he wasn't going to move an inch. Harry rolled his eyes. "You, too," he said exasperatedly to Michael, although he didn't really believe _Michael Corner _had anything to do with Ginny's current condition. Michael looked confused.

"Harry, I didn't - "

Harry held up his wand-free hand to shut Michael up. "I know, okay? Just back away please, I need to get a better look at her."

Michael's eyebrows scrunched together, but he went willingly enough. Malfoy closed his eyes, and with a sigh of defeat, backed into the opposite corner, glaring at Michael throughout. Harry climbed the last few steps and knelt by Ginny's side, taking her limp wrist in his hand. To his immense relief, he could feel a pulse fluttering there, faint but regular. Her pale complexion had even less color in it than usual, a fact exacerbated by the famous hair that resembled flames dancing around her face. Harry felt a sudden and overwhelming urge to protect her, a desire that compelled him to made several quick decisions.

_"Petrificus totalus," _he uttered calmly, directing his wand at Malfoy, who immediately went stiff as a board, propped up against the wall, with only his eyes betraying his horror. Ignoring him, Harry slid one arm under Ginny's knees and cradled her shoulders with the other. Getting to his feet was easy enough – Ginny was very light. In fact, it felt as though a sudden breeze might pluck her from his arms. The overwhelming need to keep her safe resurfaced, and Harry tightened his grip before turning his attention to Michael, who was surveying the scene with wide, perplexed eyes. "You, there," Harry said, although there was really no one else in a fit state to be addressed. "Why don't you walk in front of me."

"But, Harry," Michael protested, "I haven't done anything wrong!"

"We'll leave that up to Dumbledore to decide," Harry responded grimly. "Now stop whining and head for the hospital wing. We haven't got much time."

**A/N: I still really like this story. It's probably my favorite I've written on this site so far, but if you don't share that sentiment, the only way to tell me is in a review! Predictions, concerns? Any commentary is welcome. :]**


	11. Truth is Overrated

Madam Pomfrey gave a shout of alarm when she saw Harry carrying Ginny with his wand pointed at Michael's back. "My goodness!" she exclaimed, her hand flying to her heart. "What has happened here?"

"I'm not sure, Madam," Harry responded, courteous but impatient. "But Ginny has been hurt and I need to find Professor Dumbledore right away - "

"Harry?" came a gentle voice from behind him, a voice that immediately filled Harry with calm despite it's urgency. The headmaster swept into view, his long, pale blue robes swirling behind him. All was silent for a moment as Dumbledore studied Harry's anxious face. "How has she been hurt, Harry?" Dumbledore asked in a quiet, dangerous voice. His face was grave.

Harry understood the question well enough, but not the tone or the expression. "How? I – I'm not sure, Professor. I didn't get there until after it happened. But there's something you should know. Malfoy used the Cruciatus Curse on Michael, I saw it - "

Dumbledore didn't show any signs of shock, but his eyes burned behind the half-moon spectacles. He stared at Harry for a long, tense moment, and then said quite calmly, "Very well, then. Madam Pomfrey, would you be so kind as to look after Ms. Weasely - "

"Of course," Madam Pomfrey agreed, looking flustered as Dumbledore summoned a stretcher out of thin air. Harry settled Ginny onto it slightly regretfully: his arms were aching, but he already missed the warm weight of her in his arms, the slight smell of freesias that hung in the air about her. Dumbledore inclined his head to Madam Pomfrey slightly in a gesture Harry didn't understand, and in fact almost missed, and then Dumbledore was speaking again, to Michael this time.

"Mr. Corner, please explain what happened,"

Michael stepped forward, looking scared. "Well sir," he began nervously, "I was on my way back from dinner when I heard a girl screaming." Harry stiffened, but Dumbledore didn't flinch. "Go on," he said serenely, but his blue eyes were troubled.  
"Well, I thought it might just be two people rowing, but it didn't sound like that exactly. It was more like…" Michael hesitated, casting his eyes at the ground.

"Yes?'

Michael looked up. "It was more like she was being attacked," he said, obviously uncomfortable. Harry, who had by now sensed where this story was going, was looking around for something to break, but since Malfoy's head wasn't anywhere in sight he contented himself with digging his fingernails into his wand-free palm.

"And that was when you stumbled upon Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Weasely," Dumbledore finished for him. His face was devoid of expression, as if it had been carved from marble. Harry, on the other hand, felt like a fireworks display was taking place inside his cranium.

"Yes, sir. They were, ah, struggling when I found them, Ginny tried to run when she saw me but Malfoy punched her, that was when she got knocked out. And then the filthy Slytherin scum turned his wand on me," Michael finished, suddenly angry. He looked as though he might've spit on the ground if that were acceptable. Harry was now shaking with rage. Dumbledore's face was still carefully composed.

"Why don't you return to your dormitory, Mr. Corner?" He suggested, in a manner that made clear it wasn't a request. As soon as Michael was gone, Dumbledore turned to Harry.

"Where you leave Malfoy, Harry?" he asked in a urgent tone.

"Right this way, Professor," responded Harry grimly, already imagining the look on Malfoy's face when he saw Dumbledore sweeping around the corner. A swift hand caught Harry on the shoulder, and Harry turned, impatient, to the headmaster.

"I think it best that you don't come with me, Harry," Dumbledore advised in a gentle-yet-firm voice. "If you feel too keyed-up to go straight to bed, I suggest you check on Ms. Weasley before retiring." His tone made it clear that the subject was closed and protest was useless.

"Yes, sir," said Harry dully, and Dumbledore was gone.

**A/N: So I meant to get more than this done today but this chapter was a headache and a half and I'm kind of in the middle of a crisis right now. Not sure I got any of the characterization right, but I did my best. Questions, worries, gripes? Things you liked and others not so much? The only way I get better is if you review…**


	12. Usually Fantasies Aren't This Confusing

Ginny woke up in stages. The first thing she was aware of was her head, which was throbbing. Stiffly, she reached up to touch it. It felt as if she's been lying still for days. She wracked her brain, trying to figure out how she might have been injured. Had she tripped after the Yule Ball and hit her head? Margaret had warned her not to wear those shoes, but she hadn't listened, of course, she never did…

Already dimly aware of sunlight streaming in through a window onto her closed eyelids, Ginny decided it was time to figure out where she was. She opened her eyes to find herself in the hospital wing, which didn't surprise her. What did come as a shock to her was the fact that Harry was slumped in the chair beside her bed. Before she could get too excited about this, however, she realized that she was desperately thirsty, more parched than she ever remembered being. There was a pitcher on her bedside table, but she couldn't quite reach it from her current position, so she swung her legs over the side of the bed and got to her feet.

The head rush that followed was immediate and incapacitating. Ginny staggered, and if Harry hadn't come to as soon as he heard the sheets rustling, she probably would have fainted and cracked her head again. As it was, he stood up more swiftly than Ginny would have believed possible and caught her around the waist, steadying her. As strange as the situation was, Ginny couldn't help but relax into his embrace, savoring his strong arms around her…until she realized that she wasn't wearing anything other than a flimsy nightgown. She blushed, and Harry's concerned expression quickly shifted to chagrin. He slowly lowered her back into bed and poured her a glass of water.

The first glass tasted so good on the way down that Ginny couldn't help but gesture for another as soon she finished, gasping, with the first. Harry refilled her glass with a mildly amused expression on his face, but his green eyes held a sadness Ginny didn't understand. He looked different to her suddenly, almost like he'd gotten taller overnight…but that was ridiculous, she'd seen him at the Yule Ball only hours before. Unless more time had gone by than she'd originally thought…fear picked at Ginny's insides like a vulture at road kill, and she had to ask.

"Harry," she began uncertainly, her voice still raspy despite the water, "how long have I been in here?"

He tilted his head sideways, confused. "Since last night," he replied, as if were obvious, which, of course, it was. Still relief flooded through Ginny at the words. She wasn't going crazy, then. Except she still didn't know how she'd landed herself here.

"What happened? Did I fall on my way upstairs?"

An expression Ginny didn't understand flashed across Harry's face. "You don't remember?" he asked, sounding like he meant something different.

"N-no," Ginny faltered, flustered. Why was he looking at her that way? It almost seemed like her pitied her. But then the hint of sympathy was gone, replaced by a firm and falsely cheery tone.

"You fell," he assured her, the teasing smile back on his face. "Next time you should take a bit more care where you walk; you turned an ankle on the stairs."

Ginny's expression cleared. That made sense. "I take no responsibility; it was entirely the shoes' fault. I knew I shouldn't have worn those death-traps, but they were the only ones that went with the dress, and…what?" Ginny asked, for Harry's expression had changed again, and not for the better. Probably he was sick of her babbling away like an idiot, not giving him a chance to speak. She shut up with difficulty.

"What dress do you mean, Ginny?" he inquired fiercely, his tone urgent and low. Ginny shrank back instinctively, confused and alarmed by this abrupt change in what had been a pleasant conversation. Still, she couldn't look away from his eyes, trained on hers.

"My dress…for the Yule Ball?" she tried to say, and Harry's fists tightened on the arms of the chair. He looked like he might scream. "It was blue…" Ginny added stupidly, as if Harry's furious body language was somehow due to frustration from not being able to identify her gown. It didn't do any good, of course. Harry had already scrambled to his feet.

"I have to go meet Ron and Hermione," he invented wildly. "I'll let Madam Pomfrey know you're awake on the way out." His posture was stiff, but his expression softened when he saw the hurt look on Ginny's face. Hesitantly, he stepped closer to her bed and kissed her lightly on the forehead. Ginny's heart drummed a staccato beat against her ribs as Harry straightened, the slight smile back on his face.

"I'll be back before you know it," he promised softly, and then practically ran from the room. But Ginny didn't miss the half-sly, half embarrassed glance he threw over his shoulder at her as he left, and she wondered, dazed, if she'd actually died when she fell down the stairs, and arrived directly in her own personal heaven.

**A/N: I know you're probably pretty confused right now, but you can guess what happened if you really think about it. Please leave a review with your thoughts about this story, whether you read if from the beginning or just dropped in on this chapter. Not only does it speed up the updating process, it also really makes my day. So, what do you say? Make a nerd happy, it won't hurt anybody. :) **


	13. Sympathy For The Devil

**A/N: I've decided that in my AU world everything involving Harry happened the way it did in the books until we get to Year Five, and the notable difference there is that Umbridge never came to work at Hogwarts. This means sacrificing a lot of great material, I know (the fifth book is my favorite) but I just couldn't see a way to make it make sense. Anyway, enough talking. Enjoy! **

Harry's head was spinning as he raced for Dumbledore's study, his feet pounding the cold stone floor. It was early yet, and the corridors were deserted. He hadn't bothered explaining the real problem to Madam Pomfrey, she'd figure it out for herself soon enough, and besides, he was certain this was an injury far beyond her capacity to heal. Maybe beyond anyone's…but Harry pushed that thought out of his mind as quickly as it had entered. If anyone could help Ginny, Dumbledore could. He came to a swift halt in front of the stone gargoyle, yelled the password, and sprinted up the spiral staircase to rap on the door impatiently. He could hear the sound of a heated argument behind them, and strained to pick out individual voices, but before he made any progress with that the door opened to reveal an upset-looking Percy Weasely. As shocked as Harry was by this development, it didn't begin to compare to the scene that greeted him beyond.

Standing in the far corner discussing something in low voices were the Minister of Magic and his toad-like undersecretary, Dolores Umbridge. Harry felt a surge of dislike rush through him as he looked at the pair who had done their best to expel him from Hogwarts last summer and steadily undermine him ever since, but even that malignant duo couldn't occupy him for long. Dumbledore was at his desk, trying to mediate between Mrs. Weasely, who was shaking with rage and restrained from leaping across the room only by Mr. Weasely's vicelike grip on her elbow; and Narcissa Malfoy, who was standing proudly in front of her son, looking about two seconds away from drawing her wand. When Dumbledore saw Harry, he calmly raised his wand and a small but blindingly bright firecracker shot out of the end of it, exploding with a deafening bang in the center of the study. Everyone fell silent at once.

"Thank you," remarked the headmaster softly, his tone a quiet, firm reproach. "Now, I believe that Mr. Potter has something to say."

Fudge shot an exasperated look at Umbridge and Percy, who looked like he might have rolled his eyes if he hadn't been so tense. "Really, Dumbledore," he began, disapproval ringing in every syllable, "I'm not sure that now is the time for -"

"Mr. Potter's comment pertains to the investigation," Dumbledore interrupted Fudge, his tone slightly raised but his face still serene. "Doesn't it, Harry?"

Harry felt awkward. He wasn't sure how to say this in front of all these people, especially Mrs. Weasely, who looked as more bad news would cause her to break down completely. "It can wait until later, Professor," he lied, pleading Dumbledore with his eyes not to make a scene. The headmaster understood, and nodded twice, slowly.

"Please sit down, Harry," he suggested, and his voice was wearier than Harry had ever heard it sound before. Fudge stepped forward, presumably to protest, but Dumbledore cut him off before he had a chance. "Harry has just as much of a stake in this as everyone else in this room, Cornelius. He was the one who found Ms. Weasely -" Mrs. Weasely stifled a whimper at that, burying her head in her husband's chest "- and he deserves to know how this regrettable situation will resolve itself."

Both Draco's mother and Mrs. Weasely opened their mouths at that, ready to respond with their opinions, but Dumbledore held up both hands for silence and they acquiesced without grace.

"If everyone in this room is amenable," Dumbledore continued politely, although it was clear there was no other option, "I would like to speak for a while, and I do not wish to be interrupted….

"It is clear that something terrible has happened here. No one can disagree with that. Mr. Malfoy has been accused of using the Cruciatus Curse on a fellow student. Do you have anything to say for yourself, Draco?" At this, Malfoy looked up from examining the carpet, his expression fierce. "It's true, I did torture Michael. But I would never hurt Ginny. Never." His voice broke on the last word, and he was back to staring at the floor.

"And why did you torture Michael, Draco?" Dumbledore asked, his voice soft as velvet, his eyes burning fiercely behind the famous half-moon spectacles.

Malfoy opened his mouth, then changed his mind and shook his head slowly. "It's not my place to say," he insisted, his voice rough. Dumbledore's eyes flashed, but his tone was still gentle.

"Are you aware of the punishment for torture, Draco?" At this, Narcissa Malfoy stiffened and went to stand behind her son, her hands on his shoulders and her mouth a grim, proud line. Draco didn't look up or show any sign that he had heard.

"Yes," he replied, his voice perfectly smooth. Dumbledore studied him for a long moment. "Very well," he said, the burning look gone from his eyes, replaced by a glimpse of ancient sorrow. It only lasted a moment before he addressed the room at large.

"He has freely admitted to this most grievous crime, and since he refuses to explain what provoked him to commit such an act, I am forced to expel him from Hogwarts. I have no doubt that he will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law." he added gravely.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Narcissa growled.

Dumbledore ignored her. "If you will excuse me, Minister," he said, inclining his head towards Fudge, "I have a few distraught students to attend to. As of today, Mr. Malfoy is no longer my responsibility, but I strongly suggest that you formally take him into custody if you wish to question him further. Harry, Arthur, Molly, if you will follow me…and with that, the headmaster swept from the room, his robes billowing behind him. Stunned, Harry got up to follow him, but not before glancing at Malfoy. He expected to see fear on the Slytherin's face, but instead it was a mask of anger and pain.

_Take care of her, _Malfoy mouthed, and Harry, not knowing why, nodded.


	14. Denial

It was in March. That was when the first of the letters came.

Ginny was doing well, better than anyone had expected. The first few weeks had been the hardest, when she was first discovering exactly how much of her memory was gone. It turned out that she hadn't lost any of what she'd learned in school in the past year, which was very convenient, she often thought to herself…almost suspiciously so. But as she remembered nothing of what had made her this way, all the Healers that had examined her head had decided that her selective amnesia stemmed from the head injury, and there was nothing they could do. Her memory might return, in time, or it could never come back. No one was certain.

It was disorienting, certainly, to have a year of your life missing. Frightening at times, when she was afraid more of her memory might disappear out of the blue. But there was nothing she could do about it, so she ignored it. She exercised all of her pent-up frustration on schoolwork, and as a result her grades rose from mediocre to among the best in the class. She had hoped, perhaps rather foolishly, that she and Harry might become closer; he had been the one to rescue her, after all, but apart from that first day in the hospital wing, he gave no sign that he cared about her as anything other than Ron's kid sister. Her friends were supportive; especially Margaret, but not one of them could understand what she was going through. So when the first letter arrived, she had no idea who to confide in.

The owl was unfamiliar, a big charcoal gray that stood out against it's tawny fellows. The parchment it set neatly in front of her plate was scratchy, cheap, but it had an official looking seal on the back. Ginny looked around, heart thudding in her chest, to see if anyone else had noticed it's arrival, but they were all captivated by an article Ann was reading aloud. Stifling her curiosity, Ginny stuffed the letter into her bag and listened:

"Draco Malfoy, 15, former student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was recently sentenced to life imprisonment by the Wizengamot, who was swayed to their controversial decision by convincing evidence presented by Michael Corner, also 15 and a student at Hogwarts. Malfoy allegedly tortured Corner in a dispute involving-" Ann's breath caught, and she stopped reading suddenly. Three or four pairs of ears waited eagerly for the next word, but it did not come.

"Yes?" Margaret prompted her impatiently.

"Ginny Weasely," Ann admitted in a subdued tone, and suddenly Ginny was blushing more than Ann. The girls turned to Ginny, shocked, but she had already fled, muttering some nonsense about the library.

Once she was safely outside, Ginny slowed to a walk and pulled the letter out of her bag with trembling fingers. The words were written in an elegant script that Ginny did not recognize.

_Dearest Ginny,_

_I'm past caring what happens to me at this point, but some small, masochistic part of me likes to imagine that you still do. If that is the case, I would like to ask a great favor – one that may be beyond your capacity to grant. _

_Ginny, if any part of you still cares about any part of me at all, even in a purely Platonic way, please consider telling someone else what happened to you. Someone more in control of his response than I, who is capable of getting you the help you need. It is not for me to decide who knows and does not, which is why I am currently hours away from being escorted to Azkaban fortress. I don't intend that to make you feel guilty – the situation in which I currently find myself is no one's fault but my own – but I want you to know that if you are waiting for me to betray your trust, you will wait forever. _

_That sounds overly cryptic, doesn't it? I'm sorry. I don't mean to frighten you. But this may be the last moment of sanity I have left, and I refuse to waste it. I love you, Ginny, and what I want more than anything is for you to be safe. More than my own freedom, more than my own life, more than being able to hold you in my arms again, even, that is what I want. _

_Please tell someone, Ginny. For me. It is all and everything that I can ask of you, and I know it will be unspeakably difficult. I don't underestimate how hard it was for you to tell me. But I only ask this of you because I want you to be safe – remember that._

_All my love,_

_Draco _

Ginny's mind and heart raced as she stared at the missive. Obviously, Malfoy was under the impression that they'd had some sort of relationship, but how could that be the case? She hated Malfoy, she always had. He hadn't exactly been horrid to her on the night of the Yule Ball, but she had never spoken to him after that…had she? Ginny felt dizzy. Malfoy obviously believed something horrible had happened to her during the past year, but what could possibly be so bad that he wouldn't tell anyone about it, even to save his own skin? Ginny felt cold as she considered that. She didn't want to think about it anymore. Didn't want to imagine the possibilities.

After a quick glance around to make sure that no one was watching, Ginny shredded the letter, her cold fingers furious with grief. Sobbing, she threw the pieces into the lake and ran.

**A/N: Not my favorite chapter as far as style is concerned, but it was necessary. What did you think of Ginny's reaction? Where do you want the story to go from here? If you're reading this, please review and let me know – I've decided not to update again until I get at least 5 more. **


	15. Anger

Ginny raced blindly though the corridors, her heart stuttering in her chest, wishing more than anything that she could find a place just to be alone. She was so absorbed in thinking about the letter that she didn't keep an eye on where her feet were going, and as a result she collided with a tall, familiar-looking Hufflepuff.

"Sorry!" Ginny cried, and tried to duck around him, not wanting anyone to see her face, which was blotchy from crying. He caught her by the elbow to keep her from falling and pulled her around to face him. When she got a good look at his face, Ginny was startled to see that it was none other than Michael Corner, the other student that Ann had been reading about this morning.

"'Scuse me," she mumbled, trying to break away, but he looked down at her with concern in his eyes before dropping his hand. "You okay?" he asked, and it sounded like he meant it.

Ginny opened her mouth, ready to utter a denial, but something made her hesitate. "Not really," she admitted.

"Wanna tell me about it?" His eyebrows scrunched together, worried. Ginny didn't understand why she cared, but she was glad that he did. She desperately needed someone to talk to, and here was someone who might actually understand what she was going through. "Sure," she agreed. He beckoned towards the door of the empty classroom nearby, and Ginny followed. The door shut behind her with a snap, and Ginny, not knowing why, felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck. She dismissed the foreboding easily, seeing as her reactions didn't make a whole lot of sense anymore.

"So," Michael began, settling down comfortably on the teacher's desk.

"So," Ginny echoed. She wasn't sure what to say. Instinct warned her against mentioning the letter directly, but he had to be wondering what her problem was. She settled for the obvious. "What happened between you, Malfoy and me?" she demanded, point-blank.

Michael's features hardened. "You were there. You know better than me, probably."

Ginny frowned, startled by the sudden distance in his tone. "Actually, I don't remember any of it," she informed him, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I've lost all my memory for over a year prior to the...incident."

Michael looked shocked. "Wow, that's intense. It does explain one thing, though."

"What's that?"

Michael smiled crookedly. "You and I used to date. I was wondering why you didn't recognize me in the hall; you normally avoid me like the plague."

Ginny was too distracted by this new information to speak for a moment. "Oh. That makes sense. I do remember dancing with you at the Yule Ball…but after that, nothing."

"Ouch. Never thought I'd be so easy to forget."

Ginny knew he was only teasing, but his words hit her hard all the same. Michael said he'd dated her. Malfoy seemed to be under the same misapprehension. But what if it was true? She, Michael, and Malfoy were all involved in some sort of argument, which had resulted in Malfoy torturing Michael…what if she had been the cause of the dispute? She must have had a very odd look on her face just then, because Michael crossed the room to where she was standing and put his hands on her shoulders.

"What is it, Ginny? What do you remember?"

Ginny glanced up at the handsome, half-familiar Hufflepuff, and something about his expression frightened her. "Nothing," she said, not knowing whether or not it was a lie. "I have to go."

Michael looked confused, but backed off without further discussion, and Ginny, for the second time that day, fled.

______________________________________

The second letter just in time for her birthday.

It was a perfect, cloudless evening in early June, and Ginny was up early to mail a letter to her parents, thanking them for their card and assuring them that everything was fine at Hogwarts. The owlerey was quiet that evening, and Ginny paused for a moment by the window, admiring the sunset. Dusk had painted the sky a beautiful ochre, with touches of pink and marigold lining the gray-blue clouds. Ginny was so taken with the horizon that she barely noticed a large, charcoal gray owl soaring in from the north, but when she did, her heart plummeted.

The owl landed feather light on the window sill and gave one mournful hoot before depositing the letter in her trembling hands. Frustrated, Ginny contemplated chucking the letter out the window. She turned to the owl and gestured angrily with the letter still in her hands.

"I don't want this! Why did you bring it to me? Can't you just see I just want to _forget?!" _

The charcoal grey owl made no sound, but studied her intently with his wise golden eyes. Sighing theatrically, Ginny tore open the envelope.

_Dearest Ginny,_

_I suppose I wasn't clear enough in my last letter. If you have decided to do as I asked, and confide in someone other than myself, I wonder if there is some way you can notify me of your decision? This may be too much to ask, but all the same, it tortures me to wonder if that monster is walking free. Please, if you could send me some news – any news – it would be appreciated more than you know. _

_The days pass slowly here. I am haunted again and again by the worst memory I have – the image of your face when you told me what he'd done to you. Again, I do not tell you this to make you feel guilty, but rather to preserve what sanity I have left. I try my best to remember the good times instead – but as all of the good times in my life have involved you, the memories are easily distorted. _

_I can see a little bit of the sky from where I'm sitting. The moon is full tonight. Do you remember when you asked me if I thought the moon knew our secrets? Well, my answer is yes. I think she does. And I feel a little less lonely here tonight, with the moon for company – though she's nowhere near as beautiful as you, of course._

_I probably sound mad, and it's true that I'm not in my right mind at the moment. But one thing that has not changed, and will never do so, is the fierceness with which I love you. Please, for both our sakes, confide in someone other than the moon, Ginny. It is all I can ask of you now. Please. _

_All the love in the world,_

_Draco_

_P.S. Happy Birthday. _

Ginny could feel tears rolling unbidden down her cheeks, and she wiped them away angrily. Digging around in her bag for a bit of parchment and a quill, she scrawled a quick, furious message:

_I don't know what you're trying to pull, but the last time I remember talking to you is at the Yule Ball in the garden. You keep saying you love me, and referring to some terrible event that apparently happened last year, but I honestly have no idea what you're talking about. I'm pretty sure I was never in love with you, and I'd appreciate it if you'd stopped sending me these mysterious messages. It's just making my life more complicated and I __really__ don't need that right now. Besides, after what you did to Michael, you don't even deserve a response. _

_Don't bother answering this. If you truly care for me, the best thing you could do is never contact me again. _

_Goodbye._

_- Ginny_

Deftly folding the paper in half, Ginny held it out to the charcoal grey owl, tapping her foot impatiently. She snatched up her bag and stormed out of the owlerey, not pausing to watch him soar away into the encroaching darkness.

**A/N: Wow, so, longest chapter ever. I didn't get five reviews last time, but I couldn't wait to post this, I enjoyed writing it too much. If you enjoyed it as well, or even if you didn't, leave a review with your thoughts. It's appreciated muchly. :) **


	16. Moment

Ginny stared up at the turrets of Hogwarts castle without regret as the train picked up speed. For once, she wasn't sorry to be leaving. She would miss her friends, of course, but the castle had felt foreign to her ever since the incident. It was no longer a place where she was completely safe, and for that reason, among others, Ginny was more than ready to go home to the Burrow.

She was just fantasizing about the kind of dessert her mother would make tonight when they all returned home – she really hoped it was apple pie – when the train jolted slightly and she lost her balance, falling to one side and sending all of her belongings crashing to the floor. But instead of her tailbone hitting the ground as she expected, she was being held up by her arms, her elbows supported by warm, calloused palms.

"I thought we discussed being careful where we walked?" said a familiar, amused voice in her ear. It took all Ginny's willpower not to groan when she realized it was Harry's warm breath tickling her ear – why did he always have to be around her when she was at her most clumsy? "I guess I didn't listen," she snapped, and regretted it instantly. She bent down to recover her things, her face burning. Harry helped her gather them without speaking, a slight smile still on his face.

"Thanks. Now, if you'll excuse me-" Ginny tried to step around Harry, still blushing, but he blocked her path.

"Hang on a minute, Ginny," he said, and his vivid green eyes were troubled. "I…" he paused and looked down, unsure of how to continue.

"What is it, Harry?" Ginny kept her voice soft, curious now.

He met her gaze once more, and his face was falsely cheery once more. "It's not important. Nevermind. I'll see you in a couple weeks, okay?" He said all this a little too fast, as though he was suddenly anxious to be someplace else.

"You will?" Ginny inquired, feeling a little dazed.

"Yeah, I will. Your mum invited me to stay with you this summer, although Ron forgot to tell me until about two days ago, the prat."

"Sounds like him," Ginny asserted, and they both laughed a little before going their separate ways, but Ginny's didn't regain feeling in her elbows until they reached Platform 9 & ¾.


	17. Home

The gray owl didn't return for three weeks, and Ginny began to hope it never would. She tried her best to put the past year behind her, and for a while she felt like she was succeeding. Of course, it was easy to keep your mind off serious things when your days consisted of waking up whenever you wanted and playing Quidditch with your brothers all afternoon. They had finally conceded to let her play with them, and were surprised when she was actually good. She'd never forget the look on Ron's face when she put the first goal past him. It was absolutely priceless. But even better than that was the day after Harry's arrival. The clouds were threatening rain, but the teenagers ignored the occasional drop splashing into an eye in favor of finishing up a tie game. Fred, George, and Ginny made up one team, while the other consisted of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who had arrived several days before Harry. The sky grew darker by the minute, but Ginny was intent on catching their makeshift snitch (a Charmed golf ball), before Harry had a chance to get ahold of it. When the rain began to fall in earnest, Hermione, who had never been too keen on the idea to begin with, decided to call it quits, and Ron followed her inside like a lovesick puppy dog. George flew over to join Harry, leaving Fred and Ginny to discuss strategy.

"We've only got one shot at this!" Fred yelled over the now-driving rain. "I'll distract George with a bludger, and you go after the snitch!"

"What about Harry?" Ginny hollered back, pulling her sodden hair into a dripping knot at the back of her neck.

"I don't know, figure it out! I want this to be over!"

"So do I, but-" Ginny started to argue, but Fred had already mounted his broom and kicked off. She sighed and inhaled water in the process, flying blind and coughing straight up into downpour.

After several minutes of searching, Ginny was about to give up when Harry suddenly accelerated. Cursing herself for not noticing anything, she sped after him, the wind making the rain hard against her cheeks, but she wasn't going to catch him. It was over. This realization just made Ginny push her broom faster, shaking her hair loose so that it streamed behind her, her eyes blazing with determination. And that was when Harry made his fatal mistake. He glanced back quickly to gauge the distance between them, and became intensely and immediately distracted, slowing just enough for Ginny to shoot past him and feel her icy fingers close around the "snitch." "Yes!" she cried, elated at her victory. In fact, she was so overcome that her hands slipped from the handle of her broom and she was suddenly falling, plummeting toward the ground headfirst. Ginny cried out in terror and squeezed her eyes tight shut, but just before what would have been impact, she heard a whooshing sound and she was suddenly cradled in Harry's arms.

He landed gently on the still-muddy grass and set her carefully on her feet, but she was quite ready to let go of him just yet. The fall had spooked her quite a bit, and instead of shaking off the event like she normally would, she wrapped her arms tightly around Harry's neck and clung to him, trying to hold back the shuddering sobs that threatened to overwhelm her. Surprisingly, he didn't shake her off, but after a moment's hesitation, hugged her back, laying one hand gingerly at the back of her head. He didn't say a word, but Ginny didn't need him to. When she was sure her face was composed, she straightened slightly, confused as to why her brothers hadn't come running. It was then that she realized they were nowhere to be seen. It was just her and Harry. This thought made her heart pound in her chest, and she was sure Harry could hear it over the softening rain, but he didn't loosen his hold on her.

"You okay?" he asked, his eyes impossible to read. Ginny didn't know if he meant physically or emotionally, but she answered for both.

"I'm all right. Or, I will be."

God, was he ever beautiful when he smiled. "Good," he said, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. "That's good." And then there was distance between them again, but it was all right because he took her hand surely in his and led her back up to the Burrow, back to the bright yellow lights and warm fireplace of home.

**A/N: Yes, I realize this was fluff, but I like it anyway. No, I haven't forgotten about Draco. But tonight's the last night we have internet at my dad's house, so I may not be able to post as regularly for a while. But I'll still try to update at least once a week. Please review with your suggestions, thoughts on how I'm handling the characters, etc. It's very much appreciated. ******


	18. Author's Note

**Hey, anyone who reads this story (I originally typed "to whom it may concern", but it sounded funny), I'm really sorry about the delay. I wrote the latest chapter when I was at my dad's house, and seeing as we no longer have internet there transferring it to this computer is proving a little difficult. I could go into rant mode about that (I've asked various family members to help me out about 6 times), but I won't. For now, suffice it to say that I haven't forgotten this story, I will be updating as soon as I can, and I'm sorry for the wait. **


	19. Choice

***I had to walk to the library and sit outside in the freezing cold to post this, so you better review, god dammit!***

Hundreds of miles away, on a remote island magically concealed from Muggle discovery, lighting flashing and thunder rolled. The gray water crashed angrily against the shore, so that it was hard to pick out voices above the ever-present roar. A man walked purposefully toward the iron fortress situated in the center of the miserable island. His hood was drawn, but it was possible to discern a scowl adorning the lower half of his face. A glint of silver-blond hair had escaped from underneath the hood; he brushed it back impatiently and raised his staff to beat three times on the door of the fortress. It opened unbidden, and he swept back his hood without relief. His expression did not falter as he stalked through the corridors, and when at last he stood in front of the cell containing his only son, his scowl only grew more pronounced.

"Awake, Draco," he commanded, his voice soft with suppressed fury. The boy did not stir from his current position, curled up on the damp, moss-covered stone floor. He shivered even in sleep, and Lucius could tell that he'd lost weight, but the realization did not evoke pity in him, only disgust. Sighing, he directed his staff at his son, who immediately awoke, startled. When he recognized his father, his eyes narrowed.

"What do you want?" he asked wearily, as though it were _his_ time being wasted, not Lucius'. The realization that Draco considered himself to be superior to him infuriated Lucius, but he didn't show it.

"Get up," he said dispassionately. "You were to be released tomorrow, but the Dark Lord saw no reason to delay, and nor did I."

Draco's eyes widened, which pleased Lucius. At least the Dark Lord's mention was still enough to incite fear in Draco; Azkaban hadn't robbed him of his senses completely. When he spoke, however, his voice did not tremble.

"What does he want with me?"

Lucius could have slapped his son just then. If not for the bars separating them, he would have. Still, he kept his emotions in check. "I've no idea," he replied coldly. "I'm sure it's not to reward you for that stupid stunt back at Hogwarts, however. Was it really necessary, Draco? After the Dark Lord takes the Ministry, you can rape and torture as many blood-traitors as you like, and no one will-"

"I WOULD NEVER HURT GINNY!" Draco screamed suddenly, and Lucius was pleased to see that something had finally gotten to him, though not exactly thrilled about the subject matter. "NEVER!"

"Good grief, stop _screaming_, Draco," Lucius demanded. He might have rolled his eyes if he hadn't considered the action beneath him. "You'll need to learn to watch your mouth around the Dark Lord if you're going to become one of us." He stared with contempt at a horrified Draco. "Really, Draco, what did you expect? It was going to happen sooner or later. Surely you must be anxious for this moment, excited-"

Lucius stopped talking as he registered the expression on his son's face. It was one thing to be frightened at the mention of the Dark Lord, it was in fact a healthy reaction, but it was quite another to look so repulsed at the idea of becoming a Death Eater, an honor many young men would freely die for! Where did he get the insolence to look so disgusted, his eyes bugged wide with horror and his mouth a perfect O before dissolving into a grim, hard line of determination?

"I won't do it," Draco promised in a harsh, low voice. "I won't go."

Lucius laughed to hide his own horror, his growing disgust. "I'm afraid you have no choice," he replied, equally harshly. "Unless you wish to rot in this cell forever? Your freedom is conditional, you know. I bribed the Minister to let you go, Cornelius is a very easy man to convince, really – but if another Death Eater is not going to be joining our ranks, the money can easily be reclaimed and diverted to other means, other people more devoted to the cause-"

"Do it, then!" Draco hissed, his eyes blazing. He was on his feet suddenly, and although he swayed slightly (Lucius could see that he was weak from lack of proper nutrition), he did not fall. "I won't be your pawn any longer! What you're doing is wrong, I've known it for years and I've never had the guts to say it, but I'm saying it now! I may be your son, but that doesn't mean I have to be like you. I can choose to be different. I can, and I have. I don't want your money, I don't want His Mark. I don't care if you kill me; I'd rather die than be a Death Eater." Lucius reeled back, shocked and angry. He tried to believe it was just starvation and dementor-induced insanity talking, rather than his son, but inwardly he knew Draco was telling the truth. "Well," he said silkily, after his composure had been regained, "then die you shall. You will be nothing to be, you never were. Nothing more than a faceless casualty on the wrong side of this war."

Incredibly, a ghost of a smile graced Draco's face. "I think I can tell the wrong side for myself, thanks," he retorted, and Lucius couldn't take it any more. With one last look of utter loathing, he turned and stalked off down the passageway, turning his back forever on his only son.

______________________________________________

_Ginny was lying on scratchy carpet, shivering and scared. Something horrible had just happened, she wanted to scream, to cry out for help, but her voice was broken. It no longer responded to her will. She knew without knowing how she knew that she could never tell anyone, that doing so would mean her death. She grabbed her cloak from where it lay by the fire – where were the rest of her clothes? Did it matter? – and made her way upstairs to fall, exhausted into bed. Sleep, however, granted her no release. Instead, she found herself standing on the edge of a balcony, wearing a long, flowing green dress. Below her, she realized with horror, Malfoy and Harry were dueling. She wanted to interfere, to help Harry somehow, but her wand was nowhere in sight and her voice was useless. She watched, paralyzed with fear, as the two fought, jets of light shooting in every direction. At long last, one caught Malfoy in the chest, and suddenly she was no longer on the balcony overlooking the fight. Instead, she was by Malfoy's side, cradling his head in her lap. Confused, she tired to get up, but some invisible force held her there, made her examine his face more closely. She found no trace of menace there. Instead, his features seemed as familiar to her as a friend's embrace or the taste of her mother's apple pie. _

_"Draco," she breathed, and, impossibly, he smiled. _

_"Ginny…" he sighed, and his eyes were full of happiness as he took one last, rattling breath before going limp in Ginny's arms. _

_A wave of rage swept through Ginny; there was no time for grief, not yet. She turned, furious, to Harry, who looked as though he'd been punched in the stomach, hard. "You," Ginny whispered, hatred in her voice. Suddenly there was a wand in her hand, and she advanced, shaking, her gaze locked on the haunted, betrayed green eyes of the Boy Who Lived…_

Ginny woke up screaming. It took her a minute to realize that where she was, safe in her darkened room. The sheets were so twisted it took her a full two minutes to extricate herself from them; apparently she'd been thrashing about in her sleep. She tried to remember what she'd been dreaming about, but it was useless. The only detail she could recall were the emotions: terror, despair, anger…they still surged through her, making her thin frame shudder with anguish, and she knew she wouldn't be sleeping anymore tonight. Still, when she heard the tapping at her window, she had to slap her hand over her mouth to cover her yelp. Slowly, she turned, her heart threatening to jump into her throat, and was enormously relieved to find only the charcoal gray owl, his feathers soaking and bedraggled from the storm which still raged outside her window. He carried another letter tucked under his wing, and as much as she resented the sight of him, Ginny had to admire his ingenuity. Any other method and the print would have been illegible.

It was hard to read as it was, the usual calligraphy reduced to a scrawl due to the obvious haste with which it had been written, but Ginny could still discern the letters if she squinted. Bending forward, she read by candlelight, ignoring the wax dripping onto the paper:

_Dearest Ginny,_

_This may be the last letter I write to you, I'm not sure. It depends on whether or not my father makes good on his threat to kill me. I don't think he will, at least not for a while yet, but I'm sending this letter now as a precaution. _

_I have to admit that your last letter disturbed me greatly. Either you really don't remember what happened, or you're saying that you don't just to hurt me. I sincerely hope it's the former, but only for your safety. I accept the fact that you no longer care about me. Please Ginny, for your own sake, go to Dumbledore and explain the situation. Give him my letters if it will help; do whatever you must, seeing as I will most likely be dead soon anyway. Not that it matters. My only goal in life for a while now has been to protect you, and seeing as I have failed so miserably at that I may as well die, it doesn't matter terribly much to me. _

_I know that you requested I never speak to you again, and this probably will be the last time you hear from me if my father has his way, which he usually does. Therefore: Goodbye, Ginny. Know that I love you, and I want only the best for you, although I have undoubtedly hurt you more terribly that I have any right to imagine. I can only pray that someday that bastard will pay for his crimes, but I must let go of any hope that I will live to see that day. If I could write a will I would leave everything I own to you, but I'm inclined to think that's nothing seeing as my father is likely planning my murder even as we speak. Thus: please take care of my owl, Apollo. He's very intelligent and not too much trouble, and I would hate to think of him not having a home. _

_Love always,_

_Draco_

Ginny had long ago let the letter fall to the floor, but her lips still moved soundlessly. She could make no sense of the emotion the message dredged up in her. She felt as though she were drowning, her lungs useless, she inhaled air in choking, half-panicked gasps –

Out of nowhere, there was a knock at her door. Jolted out of her panic attack, Ginny swallowed, and, thinking quickly, stuffed the letter under her pillow. "Yes?" she called, and was pleased to discover that her voice sounded halfway normal.

"Ginny, it's Hermione. Can I come in?"

**A/N: Wow, so new record for longest chapter ever! I'm so proud of myself – nearly 2,000 words! Guess that's what you get for being sick on a "snow day" – although it's not really snow, just ice and freezing rain. Anyway, what did you think of this chapter? Was the scene between Draco and Lucius convincing? What about Ginny's dream? Was it a premonition or just a nightmare? And how about Hermione knocking at the door? Surprised? Who did you want it to be? **

**Review with your thoughts, I love reading your comments – and this chapter was twice as long as usual so I expect twice as many! Muahahaha. ;) **


	20. Familar Eyes

Hermione quietly let herself in and started to walk over to the bed, but paused when she saw Apollo. Her eyes widened in shock and confusion, flitting back and forth between the owl and Ginny before coming to rest on the younger girl.

"Who's that?" she asked, tilting her head to one side.

"I've no idea," Ginny lied effortlessly, not missing a beat. Part of her wanted to confide in someone what was happening to her, but a larger part was afraid of her parent's reaction. "He just showed up at my window. I couldn't leave him outside in this weather.

"Of course..." Hermione murmured, but she didn't look entirely convinced. Silence stretched between them, with Ginny curled on the bed and Hermione standing, one hand resting on the post. "Why don't you sit down," Ginny offered, attempting to diffuse the awkwardness. She liked Hermione well enough, but they weren't friends at school and she'd hardly ever had a one-on-one conversation with the older girl before.

"Thanks," said Hermione once she was seated. "Ginny, there's something I wanted to talk to you about…"

Ginny felt her stomach churn, but kept her expression calm. "Sure, what?" she answered, too quickly.

"Well, I've been thinking about the…what happened. How you lost your memory."

Ginny's stomach was rebelling. "Yes?" she gasped, her voice barely a whisper.

"Well, I was wondering…Madam Pomfrey thinks it happened when you hit your head, right?"

Ginny managed to nod.

Hermione hesitated, looking uncertain of how to go on. "Ginny…can you think of any reason why Malfoy would want to erase your memory?"

_____________________________________________

The next day, Ginny was cleaning the chicken coop when she heard footsteps crunch outside. She peeked through the slats in the wood and was surprised to see Harry striding quickly by, a newspaper clenched tightly in his fist. Before she could call out a greeting, Harry had bounded up the front steps and disappeared into the house. Curious, Ginny followed.

Upon entering the kitchen, Ginny was greeted with a strange scene. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all gathered around the table, discussing something in hushed voices. They all fell silent when they saw her in the doorway.

"All right, give it here," said Ginny brusquely, with more courage than she felt. Nobody moved. Ginny crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow, knowing full well that this increased her resemblance to her mother threefold. "Now," she demanded in her most Mrs. Weasely-ish tone. Ron, with an air of "oh well, cat's out of the bag", coughed it up. Ginny snatched it out of his outstretched hand and quickly scanned the headline. The room swam, and Ginny slipped sideways, her vison fading, falling into darkness, the image Draco Malfoy's half-starved eyes echoing throughout her mind…

_____________________________________________

"What's going on, Arthur? How did he escape? Why hasn't anyone found him?"

"God, Molly, I wish I knew. We all do. But the only thing I can say for sure is that he didn't get out on his own. He had help. Probably his father…the Death Easters could always use a new recruit."Ginny lay still and silent in her bed, listening to the muted conversation that filtered in, along with a sliver of warm yellow light, from the hallway. Her mother's voice was high and distressed, but her father simply sounded tired. Resigned. She wanted to tune them out, to fall again into the blessed darkness, but her mind was paralyzed, alert. Afraid.

Her mother's voice again, softer now. It sounded like she was holding back tears. "What are we going to do, Arthur?" There was a pause, during which Ginny guessed her father had embraced his wife.

"I don't know, honey. I don't know."

Their footsteps faded, probably headed for bed at last. Ginny wished them a peaceful night's sleep, but was positive it would elude them as surely as it would her. Because try as she might, she couldn't forget the haunted eyes of Draco Malfoy. Those silvery-blue orbs, full of pain and regret, set in that familiar, wasted face. A face she recognized. An expression she knew.

A face she loved.

**A/N: Sorry for the cliffhanger. I realize it's short, but still better than nothing, right? Either way, please review! **


	21. Hope is a Thing With Feathers

Ginny woke up screaming.

As soon as she realized where she was, she rolled onto her stomach and sobbed into her pillow, shaking violently. Although she couldn't remember her dream, it had left her with the same despair and anger as the night before, only stronger. Shuddering, she lay in her bed soaked in sweat and listened to see if she'd awoken her parents. She heard no footsteps in the hallway, and at last her sobs quieted. Sliding out of bed, she padded softly to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. A fog in her mind seemed to lift, and she knew what she needed to do.

The bathroom door clicked shut behind her. _"Lumos," _Ginny whispered, her wand grasped firmly in her right hand. Apollo hooted softly. Amazingly, Ginny's hands did not tremble as she scrawled a quick message on a scrap of parchment:

_Draco,_

_It feels strange to use your first name – I don't know if I have before. I don't know or understand anything that's happening to me, but I think you do. I think you do, and you must tell me, Draco, because otherwise I'm afraid I might lose my mind. I might be crazy already – otherwise why would I be writing to someone who's just escaped from Azkaban? Someone I feel I know, even though we've never had a civil conversation?_

_Please, if you know anything, please help me. You might be the only one who can. _

_Ginny _

__________________________________________

On a barren, empty plain under a vast, gray sky, a lone figure walked, wandless and alone. His coat pocket contained his inheritance – a pen, two biscuits sealed in plastic, and three Galleons, all taken from his father's lifeless body. The figure hummed listlessly as he walked, to keep his fear and hunger at bay.

A speck of darker gray appeared in the distance, highlighted against the clouds. A large bird of some sort, most likely. As it drew closer, however, his heart leaped, stuttered. It wasn't, it could not be, his very owl? It seemed less than possible, like he was returning to him from beyond the grave, but it was indeed Apollo soaring towards him. Laughing out loud, Draco took off running.

**A/N: Teaser chapter. Completely confused? Reviews are the key to my heart. ******


	22. Correspondence

_Dearest Ginny,_

_You've no idea how wonderful it feels to hear you call me by my name – you've no idea how wonderful it feels just to be alive. It's somewhat of a miracle that I am, considering my circumstances, but that doesn't matter now. The only thing that matters is your safety. _

_I don't know how to go about telling you all that's happened – I don't want to frighten or alarm you, and there are some memories it might be better not to disturb. Then again, it should be your choice. I don't know how you lost your memory, but it seems like it was either the result of a charm or possibly of the head injury you suffered. If it is the latter I fear the damage may be permanent, but if not there is most certainly hope. I have heard – and bear in mind that is simply speculation – that Memory charms can sometimes be broken by an exceptionally powerful witch or wizard. Dumbledore seems the prime candidate for this sort of rehabilitation and I suggest that you go to him at the next opportunity. _

_Truly and eternally yours,_

_Draco _

_Draco, _

_What's happened to you? Why is it a miracle that you're alive? This is so very strange – I feel connected to you, even though that cannot possibly be, I feel I know you better than my closest friends. If you understand at all why I feel this way, could you please tell me? Don't worry about offending me, or frightening me, or whatever. I have to know. _

_I'm on holiday right now – I don't know that you have any accurate measure of time, wherever you are – but when I go back to Hogwarts I will do my very best to secure an appointment with Dumbledore. It would obviously help tremendously if you were there with me, but seeing as half the world's looking for you right now that seems to be an imbalance that can't be helped. Speaking of, I've included some food in the attached package – I thought you might need it, it didn't exactly sound like you were staying at a four-star hotel._

_Ginny_

_Dearest Ginny _

_Since you've asked, I'm going to endeavor to explain our relationship to one another as best I can – but please know that it would hurt me deeply if you stopped writing to me at this point, and I would worry about you incessantly for the remainder of my life, however brief a duration that may turn out to be. _

_Hmm, how to begin? How can I describe this in such a way that you will understand, and not think me rude or forward? How can I capture that which is not finite, that wild, untamed beauty that made me fall in love with you in the first place…that first night at the Yule Ball, I wanted so much to reach out and grasp you hand as we walked side by side, but I was too afraid, too inhibited by my old, backward perceptions…and then we met, as if for the first time, on top of the Astronomy Tower. A perfect night…in fact, everything about being with you was perfect, even if we had to keep our relationship a secret. Sometimes, however, you would be moody, withdrawn…I could never guess at the source of these moods, and though I begged you to tell me many times, you always insisted that it was nothing. And then, that day, when you told me the truth…it was unbearable. I've never been so angry in my life, never felt so much anger coursing through my veins, making my pulse sound in my head and my heart throb in my throat…I would have killed, him, Ginny, if fate hadn't intervened. In fact, I wish I had killed him, because at least then I would have been imprisoned for a purpose, and he would never be able to trouble you or anyone else ever again. But I digress, and I'm sorry. _

_I expect you want facts, that my emotional ranting is doing you no good, but I'm afraid that my thoughts are extremely disjointed at the moment. Ask me specific questions and you will receive direct answers, but for now I can't tell you anything you haven't already guessed, I'm afraid._

_Thank you so much for the meat pies. I hope you are well._

_All my love,_

_Draco _

_Draco,_

_All right, you want specific questions, I've got plenty. First off, how long did our relationship last? How did it come about? What do you mean by "we had to keep it a secret"? What is the "truth"? Who is the he you keep referring to, and what did he do that made you want to kill him?_

_You're quite welcome, I'd send more but my mum is getting suspicious, so you have to make do with these sandwiches for now. Do tell me where you are and what you're up to if you're able, I worry about you, you know._

_Ginny_

_Dearest Ginny, _

_It lasted about a year. It came about through a chance meeting at the height of the Astronomy Tower. We had to keep it a secret because, well, can you imagine what would happen if we hadn't? I couldn't risk betraying my cover, although there were many times when I wanted to publicly claim you as my girlfriend, trust me. The he is question is Michael Corner. As for the truth…it is here that I hesitate. Please forgive me for this, Ginny, but if you cannot remember, I don't believe it's my place to remind you. _

_Thank you very much for the sandwiches. I don't think it would be wise to tell you my exact whereabouts at the moment, just in case this letter somehow falls into the wrong hands, but now that I am safe if not exactly well-fed. At any rate, it doesn't really matter. As long as I am alive and fighting, know that my heart is with you._

_Draco_

_Draco,_

_I don't understand. I feel I need to talk to you without the veil of print separating us, but that is obviously impossible. I don't know what to do…I feel so lost. _

_Term starts in one week. I'm finding it hard to care._

_Ginny_

_Dearest Ginny,_

_I have an idea. Is there any way you can be on the outskirts of Hogsmeade at midnight on September 1__st__?_

_Love,_

_Draco_

Ginny clutched Draco's last letter tightly in one hand, the slight frown on her face the only hint of the struggle that was taking place just beneath her carefully arranged features. On the one hand, every cell in her brain was shrieking that this was a bad idea, that she shouldn't go, that this was quite as stupid as finding your only friend in a diary that talked back…but even as her mind protested, Ginny knew that she was going to let her heart make the decision. Bending down briefly to seize a bit of parchment, she dug in her desk for a quill and, heart racing like a racehorses' just before it bursts out of the gate, scrawled just one word:

_Yes. _

**A/N: How do you like them apples? I'll try to update again soon, but in the meantime, reviews please! **


	23. Midnight Revelations

_Midnight  
Not a sound from the pavement  
Has the moon lost her memory  
She is smiling alone  
In the lamplight the withered leaves collect at my feet  
And the wind begins to moan…_

_- 'Memory'_

**2:01 AM, September 2**

Ginny faced the boy opposite her boldly, without a hint of fear in her eyes. The night hid his expression from her, but his hair gleamed brightly in the light of the full moon. "Give me one reason why I should trust you."

Leaves crunched as he moved closer to her, grasped her elbows gently in his artist's hands. "All right," he replied, and leaned down to let his lips brush hers.

**7 hours earlier…**

"Wake up, Ginny, we're in Hogsmeade," Ginny stirred at the sound of Hermione's voice, but she wasn't quite ready to wake up just yet. "Mmm?"

"We're in Hogsmeade!"

"Okay…five more minutes…"

"Oh, god, she's hopeless. You do it Ron, she's_ your _sister."

"I maintain that I was adopted."

"Jesus," Ginny heard Harry mutter. "_I'll _do it."

"Good luck," the other two chorused. The sound was followed immediately by the sound of the train screeching to a halt, and then the banging and scraping of trunks.

"I'll get the big one if you get my sister," joked Ron good-naturedly. Harry laughed lightly. "Fine, but I'll have you know that I'm getting the better deal, she can't weigh more than ninety pounds."

"True…but her attitude more than makes up for it."

"If you say so," Harry quipped. Ginny heard a rustling noise, and then a sharp, pleasant smell filled her nose. Harry had a deep, warm smell, like pine needles with a hint of something lighter underneath, a breeze off the ocean. "Hey, Ginny?" His breath was on her neck. Ginny tried not to react, and after a moment Harry seemed to decide that waking her was a hopeless cause, because, putting one arm under knees and cradling her head with the other, he picked her up and carried her to the nearest carriage. Ginny could hear some giggles in the background, but she didn't really care because she was curled up tight against the warm, sturdy chest of the Boy Who Lived, and there was no place she'd rather be.

Ginny lay in bed awake, her teeth chattering, mentally chastising herself for falling asleep on the Hogwarts express. How had she let herself forget the plans that she had for tonight, pretend that she was just a normal girl with nothing to worry about save whether Harry would ever get a clue? She knew the answer to that, knew it perfectly well, in fact if she hadn't seen the way he looked at Cho Chang she'd have said he was queer. That and his lack of sensitivity – a gay man could never be so tactless.

Wait a minute. Why was she thinking about Harry? She was supposed to be focusing on the Plan, that was all that mattered, it was crucial to her very survival. She wanted to know the circumstances that had led her tonight – sneaking out of her dormitory to a secret rendezvous with a fugitive convicted of brutally attacking her and another student. Not that she really believed Draco had done that. If she was being honest with herself, she wasn't positive what she believed, but she knew she had to know for sure, as opposed to just floundering in the dark. With that in mind, she dressed silently and stealthily crept out of the castle into the dark, chill night.

**11:55 PM September 1**

He couldn't believe he was actually going to get to see her again, after all this time. Of course, it didn't really feel like that long to him, it seemed like just yesterday that he'd held her while she confessed what that bastard had done to her. The image of her tear-streaked face had haunted all his nightmares since then, and he'd had plenty while shut up in Azkaban…what wouldn't he give to see her smile, just once more before he died? It would be worth everything he'd had to struggle for, just to see her truly happy. He'd once dreamed of the day when he would defy his entire family by making her his wife, but now it seemed like that day would never come…

Draco was pulled out of his reverie by the sounding of footsteps crunching on the wet leaves. His heart raced. He hoped it was really her and not some kind of stupid trap, because he honestly didn't know if he had the skill or the heart to attempt another escape. Might as well just subject himself to the Dementor's Kiss and be done with it, his soul was worth much without her, anyway…

The person responsible for making all the noise rounded the corner, and Draco saw that it was indeed the person he'd been dreaming about in one form or the other for the last three months. Her hair was longer than he remembered, and her pale feature looked ghostly in the moonlight. Dressed in trainers and a bathrobe over a white silk nightgown, her hair loose and cascading down her back like the sun that was missing from the sky, she had never looked more beautiful. Draco wanted very badly to go to her and sweep her up in his arms and kiss her soundly just to make sure she was real, but he held back.

"So you came," he said throatily.

"Looks like it," said Ginny, smiling tightly. "So why don't you tell me what really happened?"

**1:59 AM September 2**

"I don't believe it."

Draco rubbed his eyes tiredly and resisted the urge to yawn. Instead, he kept his face serious and said calmly, "Believe it or not, it's the truth. Do with it what you will; but I'd really appreciate it if you just took my word for it." _Damn, I hadn't even gotten to the really terrible part yet, _thought Draco miserably.

Ginny met his eyes with a fierceness he sometimes forgot she possessed. "Give me one reason why I should trust you," she demanded, and suddenly Draco was tired of it all. Tired of the pretenses, tired of the lies. He just wanted to hold her and kiss her like he used to just one more time before he died. Was that really so much to ask? Caught up in the impulse and the moment and the moonlight, Draco took a step closer to Ginny. "All right," he whispered softly.

To his very great surprise, she didn't not back away, but merely stood there stock still, her eyes still burning with that odd, fierce light. When he took hold of her arms, he noticed that they were trembling. Her lips were every bit as soft and warm and ever, and parted willingly enough, but Draco figured that was just because she was still in shock and decided not to push his luck. Instead he kissed her softly, chastely, and she collapsed sobbing, in his arms.

Filled with a horrible sense of déjà vu, Draco supported Ginny carefully as he was forced to lower her to the ground. She raised her tear-stained face to him as she had in countless dreams, but none of them had accurately captured the pain in her eyes, the look of her tortured, tough soul staring out from behind them.

"I remember," Ginny moaned.

"What? What do you remember?" Draco demanded urgently, hoarsely.

"Everything."

**A/N: Just to give you a heads-up, all is not as it seems…I'm not sure when I'll get a chance to update next, though; I've got play practice all week and a performance this weekend. ******


	24. Everything

Ginny felt like her head had imploded.

In addition to suffering from the worst migraine she'd ever had, Ginny's back was aching. It felt like she was lying on something hard and cold, like granite beneath her fingertips, but that couldn't be right, she was in her four-poster in the girl's dormitory, this had to be some sort of bizarre dream.

"Ginny! Ginny, wake up!"

At that, her eyes flew open, and she was faced with an unlikely discovery: Draco Malfoy's urgent face, only inches from her own. The sight brought back last night's memories, and Ginny groaned, letting her head fall back onto the rough, cracked stone, as the tape in her head began to play…

_"I remember."(Her own voice, barely a whisper)_

_"What? What do you remember?" (His, wracked with pain)_

_"Everything…" _

_And so she had – everything about him, at any rate. She remembered that first night, at the height of the astronomy tower, when he revealed the secret that the moon didn't know. She remembered him telling her about his role in the anti-Voldemort movement, his connection to Professor Snape. She remembered countless kisses, stolen hours on the outskirts of the grounds. She remembered everything – and nothing. Because she still didn't remember the catalyst that had pushed Draco over the edge, caused him to attack Michael Corner. She knew she needed to tell him that, force him to explain what had left her this way, but she couldn't. At that moment, when his perfect, anxious face was hovering over her, all she could think of was how much she loved him._

_"Draco…" she began, her voice hoarse. His eyes searched hers frantically. He was making himself sick with worry over her, and his concern made her ache for him. She needed to speak, to tell him that she was all right, that she understood everything now, that all she wanted was him, for ever and ever…but she couldn't find the words. He seemed to understand, and hushed her gently. _

_"Shh, honey, it's all right…I've got you now, it's all going to be fine."_

_She listened. She believed. And so she didn't protest when he picked her up, ever so gently, like a baby cradled in his arms. When she realized that they were headed back to Hogwarts, however, she shook her head violently. _

_"What is it, love? What's wrong?" _

_She shivered as she tried to speak, to convey the overwhelming fear of being without him, her protector. "P-please…don't leave m-me. Please. I c-can't s-stand it if you l-leave me." _

_He hesitated. Then, with a sigh, he wrapped her thin nightgown tighter around her and carried her back to his hideaway, a cave in the mountains. He might have said things as he walked, might have made plans as he held her, but she didn't hear any of them, because she had drifted off to sleep in his arms, feeling safe at last. _

Ginny trembled as she came back to consciousness. She was in Draco's arms again, but he was moving much faster now, his gait uneven. He muttered to himself as he stirred, but she could only catch the odd word or phrase, murmured under his breath:

"…so stupid…how could I ever…shouldn't have…"

"Draco," Ginny mumbled. He didn't hear her. "Draco!"

He stopped in his tracks and looked down at her, his expression somewhere between bemused and panicked. He raised his eyebrows, indicating that she should continue.

"Draco, I'm all right. You can put me down now. What time is it?"

He glanced at his wrist, but did not loosen his hold on her. "Just after 4:30."

That didn't seem like it could be right. She remembered clearly falling asleep nestled against him, her head resting lightly on his warm, hard-muscled chest. She tried again. "What _day _is it?"

His eyebrows clouded, then cleared as he understood. "September 2nd. We were only asleep for a few hours. I'm taking you back to the castle now."

Ginny thought quickly. It would not do to be seen entering Hogwarts with a known fugitive who also happened to be the son of a Death Eater. She had a very sketchy idea of how she was going to enter at all. "All right. Put me down.'

Draco hesitated, but acquiesced reluctantly, setting her on her feet with insulting ease. "Are you sure you'll be all right?"

He looked so worried standing there, more vulnerable and boyish than she remembered, that she couldn't help but throw her arms and around him and hug him, hard. Then, before he could protest, she pressed her lips against his in a fierce and memorable kiss.

"I'll be fine," she promised. "Thanks to you."

And then she flitted off into the night, leaving a stunned Draco standing alone in the gray, pre-dawn light, his mind spinning and his lips tingling from the impression of her lips.

**A/N: All will be explained…eventually.**

**Let me know if you want longer chapters, 'cause I can do that if you want. It'll just take a little longer. **

**Reviews = sustenance. :D **


	25. Never Again

-1Ginny made her way through the castle carefully, her heart pounding from adrenalin and the excitement of seeing Draco. She knew she should be apprehensive, frightened, even, but all of her doubts had been washed away by the tide of memories. She smiled as she climbed into bed, remembering the feel of his arms supporting her gently, and fell asleep thinking of ways to see him again.

_______________________

It was a few months, however, before this dream came to fruition. They wrote as often as they could, changing owls every time, but Ginny couldn't be seen writing too many letters or it would look suspicious. Draco closed every letter with some sort of plea for Ginny to go to Dumbledore, but she refused, saying that she wouldn't bother the headmaster unless Draco provided his reason for attacking Michael. He wouldn't, and Ginny was secretly glad, because she had a strong feeling that going to Dumbledore would put Draco in danger, and she wanted to avoid that at all costs.

By the end of October, they were at an impasse, neither of them willing to give in, and both, though neither admitted it, longing to see each other again. So when Ginny saw that the first Hogsmeade weekend had been announced, her face broke out in a wide smile, and she immediately raced to the owlery.

_Draco,_

_First Hogsmeade weekend this Saturday. I've got an idea about how we can meet without being seen - how about inside the Shrieking Shack?_

_Ginny_

Draco sent back his okay with the next morning's post, and that evening, Ginny couldn't help but feel a little bit nervous, as if she were preparing for a date. That was preposterous, of course, but silly as it was, Ginny was a little distracted as she made her way back to the common room, and was overcome with surprise when she ran into a tall Hufflepuff boy and knocked his things to the floor.

She was halfway in between apologizing profusely and stopping to gather up his Potions book when she saw that the boy she'd nearly bowled over was in fact, the reason why Draco was currently hiding in a cramped, musty cavern in the mountains surrounding Hogwarts.

Michael Corner grinned down at Ginny, and she was momentarily taken aback by how good-looking he was. But she forced herself to think of Draco, and Michael's easy smile went from charming to roguish. She muttered "Sorry," again, handed him his book, and made to leave, but he wasn't about to let her go that easily. Still smiling, he took hold of her upper arm in what was clearly meant to seem like an easygoing gesture, but his vice like grip hinted at something more sinister. Instinctively, Ginny did not struggle, but simply looked up at him with an innocent expression. His smile widened.

"Ginny Weasely, right?"

Like he didn't bloody well know. "Um, yes. Excuse me, but I'm kind of late for something…" she cast a pointed look at his hand, which was still grasping her upper arm, and he let go rather reluctantly, the shifty grin never leaving his face.

"Hey, listen, you got plans for tomorrow? 'Cause if not, I was thinking, would you like to go for a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks."

Oh, sweet Merlin! Draco was _not _going to like this. "Um, can't, sorry," Ginny mumbled quickly, avoiding eye contact, and ducked around him to walk quickly away.

As soon as she was around the corner, she broke into a run, refusing to pause until she collapsed, winded, on her four-poster in the girl's dormitory.

____________________

The next day, Ginny threw on the outfit she'd nervously picked out three days before and made her way downstairs without bothering to look in a mirror. It was cold and overcast outside, so it made sense for her to wear a hat, although she didn't do it because she was worried about the temperature. It was more that she wanted to be able to blend in today, and her vivid hair generally made that impossible. Still, she couldn't help from glancing over her shoulder every two seconds for the entirety of the twenty-minute trip, couldn't shake the prickling feeling at the back of her neck, like she was being watched. When she at last saw the entrance to the old, abandoned house, it was actually a relief to have the gate within her sights. Ignoring the NO TRESPASSING sign, she stepped easily over the broken-down fencing and made her way up the path to the house itself.

The front door did not creak when she opened it, and Ginny found it slightly ominous, as if the absence of sound had intensified her feeling that she was being stalked. Trying to dismiss her burgeoning terror, Ginny called out, "Draco?"

There was no response save the rising goose bumps on her arms. And then, quite suddenly, Ginny heard the front door slam. Whirling around, Ginny drew her wand, but, for the third time in her life, she wasn't fast enough.

"Expelliarmus!" cried Michael Corner, and Ginny watched in despair as her wand soared away from her in a high arc. He caught it, laughing quietly.

"Ah, Ginny. So naïve. Did you really think I wouldn't follow you here?"

Ginny trembled, but held her head high, refusing to show any sign of fear. Michael studied her intently, his brow furrowed.

"I can't tell if you really don't remember or if you're acting. Tell me, do you remember our night together?"

Ginny tasted bile in her throat. She did not move, determined not to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Her determination seemed to amuse him.

"Just as stubborn as ever, I see…now, are you going to answer me, or do we have to do this the hard way?"

She said nothing, and he seemed to take that as confirmation. With a theatrical sigh, he pointed his wand at her heart.

_"Crucio!" _he cried, and Ginny collapsed on the floor, writhing in pain unlike any she had ever experienced. The first time she fell off a broomstick, the broken ribs when she was ten and got dared to climb the flagpole, the time she was attacked by the Venomous Tentacula in Herbology…none of those experiences could even come close to matching this, the most gruesome agony any human had ever endured-

And then, suddenly, it was over, and she was herself again. Her limbs stopped twitching, her scream cut off, and the fire slowly receded from her limbs. Shaking, she clutched her stomach, feeling like she was about to be sick. Then she heard Michael chuckling softly to himself, and that simple sound infuriated her more than any other she'd heard in her young life. Gritting her teeth, Ginny pushed herself to her feet, and stood defiantly before him. He simply raised his eyebrows.

"So, do you remember?" He prompted her. She gave no sign that she'd heard him, and his grin widened. "Guess I'll just have to remind you, then…"

Ginny stiffened, but he did not come near her. Instead, he merely muttered words, an incantation, and her knees buckled beneath her once more…

_She was thirteen again, stumbling happily into the common room after that second conversation with Draco. To her surprise and anger, she found Michael waiting for her. _

_He was sitting in a chair beside the fire, flames flickering on a face that seemed carved out of stone. "I waited for you at dinner."_

_"Oh, yeah, sorry. I had to go to the library. To return a book. You know how Madam Pince gets –" Ginny babbled incoherently. From the murderous look on his face, she could tell Michael wasn't buying it. She cast her eyes around the room, trying to find someone to help her out of this mess, but there was no one._

_"Who were you with, Ginny?"_

_She was out of practice with rearranging her expression. "What?" she gasped weakly, trying to sound surprised. In truth, the only shock was that he'd figured it out so quickly._

_"I know you were with someone. Who?" His fists were balled at his sides and his eyes were full of black fury. Ginny started to answer, but Michael cut her off with a growl of rage. He took a step toward her, and Ginny's hand crept toward her wand pocket._

_"You know what? It doesn't matter who it was. I know what you were doing, you filthy little slut, and tomorrow the whole school will know it, too…" _

The memories kept playing in her head, and Ginny lived through everything again, as if for the first time. She shuddered and sobbed and begged him not to hurt her, but he didn't listen, and the memories continued, up to and including the confrontation involving her, Michael, and Draco. As soon as it was over, everything clicked in her brain, the forcefully forgotten events of the past two years all fitting together seamlessly. She looked up at Michael with a mixture of shock, revulsion, and anger, and before he could blink, she had thrown herself at him like a feral cat, ducking his shouted curse with insulting ease. Time slowed down for her, and she was glad, because it gave her the opportunity to really enjoying the feel of her fingernails against his face, to hear with utter clarity the satisfying crunch his nose made when her fist connected.

Simply put, Michael had no chance. Ginny, screaming like a banshee, had wrestled his wand out of his hand and had it pointed directly between his eyes before he had a chance to react. Panting, she stepped off of him, still keeping his wand trained at his forehead.

"Where's Draco?" she shrieked, anger pulsing white-hot through her blood.

His forehead furrowed convincingly, but Ginny wasn't buying his honest confusion act for one second. In fact, she was about a second away from hexing him into oblivion when Draco burst through the door of the Shrieking Shack.

"Ginny!" he cried, and made as if to move toward her.

At that moment, however, Ginny was certain that if he touched her, she would shatter into a million pieces. "Don't!" she cried, her voice full of pain and heartbreak as she began to tremble violently.

Draco stood undecided in the doorway, torn between wanting to go and comfort her and wanting to kill Michael on the spot. He decided that trying to calm her down was the best option for the moment, and then they could decide what do about the piece of human scum that was currently cowering on the floor.

Suddenly, Draco was struck by an idea. Taking his inspiration from the one Muggle film he'd seen in his life, Draco deftly stunned Michael. Ginny flinched, and he hurried to stow his wand in his jean's pocket and raise his hands above his head in the universal gesture of surrender.

"It's all right," he assured Ginny calmly, taking a step her way. She didn't move, just stood there with a trapped expression on her face. "I'm not going to hurt you…" Another step. She was starting to look frightened now. He paused, and in desperation tried to appeal to her reasonable side.

"Ginny, come on. It's me, Draco. I love you, remember? Please, honey, just try and calm down a little bit."

That seemed to do the trick. Ginny lowered Michael's wand almost all the way. Draco rushed to her side, and she collapsed onto him, sobbing. Wrapping his arms around her waist, Draco buried his face in her hair and simply let her cry. At last, she pulled away from him, wiping her eyes.

"I remember…" she started out shakily, and Draco held a gentle finger to his lips, hushing her.

"Shh, it'll be all right. You remember…what he did to you?"

She nodded, looking on the verge of tears again. "Draco, why didn't you tell me?"

His heart broke then, as she looked up at him with betrayal in her eyes. "Oh, Ginny…I'm so sorry, what I did was inexcusable. I just…I didn't want you to have to hurt like this." Draco's voice trembled, and Ginny, to his amazement, managed a watery smile as she wiped away the tears that were now slipping down his cheeks. Leaning close to him, she whispered nine words in his ear:

"It's worth it if I get to keep you."

__________________

The process back up to the castle was slow, but at last they made it, directly a bound, unconscious, and levitated Michael in front of them throughout the journey. It took all of Draco's restraint not to kill him on the spot, but Ginny made the very good point that if he did that he'd be throwing away all his sacrifices just for revenge.

"Look, I'm not saying the bastard deserves to walk free," she stated, remarkably calmly. "But I don't want his blood on your hands, Draco. You're better than that."

Inwardly, Draco knew she was right, but it was still very hard not to attack him. He made do with letting the son of a bitch's head bump on the ceiling's stones as they made their way back up the tunnel that led to the Whomping Willow, discussing strategy for making sure that their story was heard. They decided that the best idea was just to go straight to Dumbledore, and cast Disillusionment charms on themselves to keep from being seen. Once inside the castle, they locked a still unconscious Michael inside a closet and headed for Dumbledore's office.

They were about halfway there when the screaming started.

**A/N: I broke my previous word limit! Whoo!**

**Also, this chapter was really fun to write. Especially the part where Ginny attacks Michael. **

**More coming soon…if you REVIEW! Muahahahaha. **


	26. Nightmare

When they first heard the yells and bangs coming from the third floor, Draco and Ginny immediately pressed themselves against the wall and exchanged a half-guarded, half-frightened glance.

_Stay behind me, _Draco mouthed, and Ginny, rolling her eyes, acquiesced. Drawing her wand, she fell in line behind Draco as they crept tentatively forward. They were still Disillusioned and so would hopefully appear as nothing more than a slight shimmer in the air, but it couldn't hurt to be careful. Lacing their fingers together for a brief moment, the two half-figures peeked around the corner.

Nothing could have prepared them for what they saw next.

_______________________

When Harry first rolled out of bed, it seemed destined to be a good day. The ceiling of the Great Hall was overcast and bleak, but the Three Broomsticks was sure to be warm and comfortable, and Zonko's cheery atmosphere filled with students and sweets. In fact, the day bested his expectations, turning into one of the best he'd had since Voldemort's return. It was only as he was walking back towards the castle, listening to Ron and Hermione bicker lightheartedly, that he remembered something strange. Hermione noticed the puzzled look on his face almost immediately and asked him what was wrong.

"Nothing, it's just…did Ginny say anything to either of you today about meeting someone at the Shrieking Shack? Because I'm sure I saw her heading that direction."

Ron's brow creased for a moment, but then he shrugged. "Didn't say a word to me, mate. Why do you ask?"

"Yes, Harry," interrupted Hermione slyly, looking as though she was fighting to keep the grin off her face, "why do you ask?"

Harry felt his cheeks burn. "No reason," he mumbled, not looking at her, and after a moment she went back to arguing good-naturedly with Ron. Harry tried to focus on the ground beneath his feet, but couldn't manage erase the image of Ginny heading towards the outskirts of Hogsmeade, her collar turned up against the wind, looking small and frightened and alone.

In a few moments, it would be driven from his head completely.

____________________

Ginny grasped Draco's hand in shock and fear as a strange and horrifying scene unfolded in front of them. Standing on the balcony just around the corner was none other than Lucius Malfoy, accompanied by two hooded figures. His silvery blond hair flowed down his back and his razor-sharp gaze was trained on Severus Snape, who, bereft of a wand, had his arms thrown wide to protect a livid-looking Harry and Ron, who were supporting an unconscious Hermione between them.

"How did you gain access to the castle, Lucius?" asked Snape, his voice remarkably calm for someone who has just been cornered.

Draco's father laughed coldly. "It wasn't so hard now that you mention it…Severus. I think the more pertinent question is what are you doing protecting _him?_" He acknowledged Harry with a nod, and Ginny noticed the black-haired boy's fists clench. For a long moment, Ginny half-expected Snape to deny everything, but instead he just stood there staring at Malfoy, a serene look in his eyes. Ginny watched as Malfoy's face tightened, and at last he spoke.

"Traitor," he said quietly, but there was enough venom in that one word alone to propel Ginny and Draco into action. Meeting each other's eyes for just a moment – the last of the poorly cast Disillusionment charm was now fading to nothing – they both pointed their wands at the unknown Death Eater's backs and shouted, _"Stupefy!"_

Ginny's Death Eater crumpled, but Draco's aim was just the slightest bit off, and it was enough. Whirling around, the second Death Eater shot a curse at Ginny, which she was thankfully quick enough to block, but Ron was not so lucky. He'd caught Draco's Stunning spell directly in the face, and might have gone over the railing if Harry hadn't caught hold of him. Meanwhile, Snape took advantage of Malfoy's momentary distraction to snatch up the first Death Eater's discarded wand and send a jinx his way. The pair continued to duel as Snape made his way backwards up the stairs to the next landing, but Ginny was too distracted to notice much; she was still dealing with the second Death Eater. Luckily for her, at that precise moment he tripped backwards and struck his head on the railing. Satisfied, Ginny spun around just in time to see her worst nightmare come true: Harry had recovered his wand and was now pointing it squarely at a disarmed Draco's chest.

"No!" Ginny screamed, but it was too late. There was a bang and a flash of purple light, and suddenly Draco was lying lifeless on the cold stone floor.

­­­­­­­­________________________________

­

_It was the most beautiful day – so perfect, in fact, that it made Ginny feel sad because she knew she'd never again feel this happy. Draco was smiling at her, his hair stained blinding white by the fiercely shining sun. She tried to go to him, but found she couldn't move. He shook his head at her efforts, still smiling, and held a finger to his lips. Then he turned and walked away, his back to her, until his image became a mirage, a mere shadow on the horizon, and she was no longer sure whether he'd ever been beside her at all. _

Despite the Indian summer heat, Ginny lay cold as a statue in her bed. Her skin felt clammy to the touch, and her sleep was disturbed by strange dreams featuring the same person that haunted her waking hours. She wouldn't eat, and didn't even seem to realize when other people were in the room with her. Her eyes were glassy, as though they have iced over with the tears she refused to shed. She could hear the others talking outside her door, whispering, but she didn't much care what they said about her. She only listened because she lacked the strength to move.

"What's wrong with her, exactly?"

"No one knows. She won't eat or drink, she does even seem to know when you're talking to her. Hermione keeps throwing around words like "catatonic", and the rest of that Muggle rubbish, but I reckon she's just depressed. Over _Malfoy, _of all people…" There was a pause, during which Ginny tried to imagine the look on Harry's face. She hoped, whatever he was feeling at the moment, it was causing him a lot of pain. It seemed to be likely, because the next thing she heard was Ron backpedaling frantically: "Sorry, mate, but it's hard to let go of year's worth of hatred in a few days, you know? Anyway, I've told you over and over again that you didn't do anything wrong. I'd have done the same, you know, had I been conscious…"

Harry's voice was hard when he answered, "Yeah, but you didn't. It was me. _I _did it. And I didn't have to…he wasn't really a threat, I was just angry 'cause his shot nearly sent you over the balcony…I didn't have to. If he...if he dies, it'll be my fault. All mine."

There was a pause. Ginny could imagine the haggard look on Harry's face, the way his lips had twisted around the possibility of Draco's death –

But, wait. He'd said "if". If he dies. That meant he could still be alive. Ginny felt her heart leap. She blinked rapidly, and the unspent tears of the last few days rolled down her cheeks – out of grief or joy, she wasn't sure which. Heart hammering, she swung her legs out of bed and ran into the hallway to confront a shaken-looking Harry and a confused Ron.

"Draco is alive?" she nearly shouted; hope lodging a painful splinter in her chest. "Why didn't you _tell me_, you imbeciles?! Where is he? How much danger is he in? Tell me!" she demanded, seizing Ron by the front of his robes and shaking him. Harry came to Ron's rescue, stepping in between them and speaking more calmly than Ginny would have believed him capable of merely a moment before.

"Ginny, calm down," said Harry gravely, and Ginny might have lost her head completely and attacked him if not for his next words, words that made no sense and sent chills of fear racing down her spine –

"As far as we can tell, he's at Malfoy Manor."

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

**A/N: Ooh, cliffhanger. Sorry about that. I'm also sorry it took me so long to post this chapter; believe me, it was just as annoying on this end. I want to give a shout-out to my faithful reviewer, ****Winnamine**** – you're awesome, and I really appreciate your consistent feedback on this story. Also, if anyone else is reading this, holla – I put a fair amount of my time into this and every review means a lot to me. Thanks. **


	27. In the Belly of the Beast

Ginny felt all the blood drain out of her face as she stood staring flabbergasted at Harry. "What are you talking about?" she demanded, shooting questions at him more quickly that artillery fire. "What do you know? What happened after-"

Harry was still looking very serious, and he held up a hand to silence her. Grimacing, Ginny shut up with some effort, and instead stared pointedly at Harry, waiting for him to explain.

"After you passed out, the other Death Eater came to and yelled something at Malfoy. He stopped fighting Snape right away and ran down to where Mal-er, Draco- was lying on the balcony." Harry made a face at the memory, probably trying to avoid repeating his part in the catastrophe, but Ginny was not about to let him off the hook so easily. Not by a long shot. Still, she managed not to slap him as he continued, "Anyway, he managed to grab Draco and they both caught hold of that stupid cane thing he carries around and disappeared. I guess that's how they got in to the school too, or at least that's what Dumbledore thinks-"

Ginny was beginning to get bored with this long-winded explanation, and this time it was she who held up her hand for silence. "You said Draco is at Malfoy Manor?"

Harry hesitated. "That's what Dumbledore thinks, yes."

Ginny didn't need to hear anymore. She turned away from her brother and her former crush, but hadn't walked two steps before she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around to see that it was Ron, looking concerned.

"Just wait one minute, Ginny," he said slowly. "Where are you going?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. It was hard to believe she was actually related to Ron, he could be so thick sometimes. "To rescue Draco," she stated calmly, and felt Ron's hand slide off her shoulder as she took a step back, stunned. She started off down the corridor again, pulling her hair back as she walked. She could hear Harry and Ron arguing behind her, but she didn't pay them any mind until footsteps echoed in the hallway behind her. Annoyed, she turned around once more and was surprised to find that it was Harry and not her brother who was following her.

"What do you want?" she asked him scathingly.

He kept pace with her easily, and his expression was too calm for her liking. "I want to help," he told her.

That stopped her in her tracks. "Harry, think about what you're _doing_," she urged him. "I appreciate the fact that you…feel guilty, or whatever, but that's not enough. You can't just walk into a house full of Death Eaters. If you die, so does the Order of the Phoenix."

He studied her face, apparently considering the relative calmness with which she was discussing his death, but chose not to mention it. "I don't care. I'm coming. This whole mess is my fault, and I'm going to do my best to put it right."

She couldn't argue with that, and found that she didn't want to. No matter how impossible the idea might seem, if she was going to rescue Draco from a houseful of Death Eaters, it was not a bad idea to have Harry Potter at her side.

_______________________

When Draco awoke, he was lying on the floor of yet another dungeon, but at least this one was familiar. He was tempted to laugh at the irony of being imprisoned in his own household for the crime of doing the right thing, but he found that it hurt to move. He managed to push himself into a seated position and was contemplating attempting to stand when he heard footsteps on the stairs, and froze.

It was his father. Draco was dismayed to see a pleased, almost euphoric expression on Lucius Malfoy's face, seeing as it probably didn't bode well for his own welfare. Still, he kept his face still as granite even as the rhythm of his heartbeat sped up.

"Well, well…" Lucius began, a smile creasing his face. "This mess appears to have worked out to our advantage, Draco."

"You mean your advantage," Draco shot back coldly.

Lucius shrugged. "As far as I'm concerned, they are one and the same….or will be, very shortly. Anyway, you'll be pleased to know that your little _girlfriend_ has decided to pay us a visit."

Draco felt his heart skip two or three beats. "What - who d'you…"

"You know exactly who I mean," said Lucius, sounding bored with the whole affair. "That little Weasely girl is headed for our house as we speak. Rather foolish of her, seeing that she will soon be outnumbered seven to one…but useful, if we can get her to reveal Order secrets. You might consider helping us out, too. I'm sure Severus" his mouth twisted around the word, as though the very act of uttering his former comrade's name was beneath him "told you a fair many things when you were busy acting as his little spy. You might want to consider giving up _your _career as a double agent if you want Ginny to survive the ordeal." Lucius' cold, mocking smile was the exclamation point on this death sentence, and he turned swiftly to climb back up the stellar stairs as Draco sank to his knees in regret and despair.

**A/N: Wow, I churned that out quickly! In all fairness, though, the last chapter did take me a LONG time to post. Anyway, I expect to wrap up this story in the next three chapters. Prepare yourselves, because the ending is not what you expect. **

**Reviewers get a gold star, and quite possibly a cookie : )**


	28. Smile For Me

Much later, long after Draco had fretted himself into an uneasy sleep, he heard loud noises coming from upstairs. The cellar door was kicked open, and Lucius thundered downstairs, holding a struggling Ginny Weasely by the scruff of her neck. He was flanked by Crabbe and Goyle (the originals), and Draco felt a surge of embarrassment in addition to his horror, panic, and overwhelming anxiety as he considered what he must have looked like parading around Hogwarts with those buffoons' sons. That small shame, however, was so overshadowed by the fear he felt for Ginny that it might as well not even exist. Lucius Malfoy was rivaled only by Bellatrix Lestrange in terms of cruelty.

Lucius shoved Ginny roughly to the floor from the fourth or fifth step, and Draco had to rush to catch her. He pulled her upright, and for a moment the wonder he felt at having her in his arms once again dominated his emotions. Her eyes were not as scared as they should have been, however.

"Help is on the way," she whispered in his ear before her warm body was wrenched away from his. Draco let out a snarl of fury at the rough way Crabbe was treating her and made a move toward him, but he was on the floor, hands bound, before he could utter the words, "Don't touch her!"

Draco could hear his father laughing quietly as he struggled. Then all of a sudden the laughter halted. Time to get down to business, then. Draco tried, but could not control the waves of dread and fury that washed over him as his father trained his wand on Ginny.

"Calm down, little girl," Lucius commanded, excitement at the prospect of torturing Ginny beginning to overwhelm his usual apathy. "Now, why don't you just tell us what we need to know and I promise we won't hurt-"

"LIES!" Draco screamed, his rage getting the better of him. Lucius did not look at his son, but instead merely pointed his wand in Draco's direction, and suddenly Draco could not speak around the thick gag that covered his mouth. Ginny made a low sound in the back of her throat, almost like a growl, and Lucius laughed, obviously delighted at her show of bravery.

"You're a spirited one, aren't you," began Lucius conversationally, beginning to circle around her. "I suppose asking you to simply surrender the information isn't going to be enough.

Ginny held her head high. "You won't get a word out of me," she promised, and Draco groaned through his gag. She was going to be difficult about this.

Lucius sighed with fake regret and pointed his wand at Ginny's heart. "As you wish," he said. Then, "_Crucio!"_

It was, without a doubt, the worst moment of Draco's life. The sound of Ginny screaming pierced him to his very core, and he found that he was screaming too, although the sound was muffled by the gag. Watching Ginny's pain was a thousand times worse than experiencing it himself, and he was sure that this was only a taste of what his father had in store. He was correct. Ginny's screams faded after only a few seconds, although it felt like an eternity to Draco. Lucius watched in cold amusement as Ginny struggled to her feet to look him coolly in the eye.

"You'll have to do better than that," she told him, defiant.

"Yes, I suppose I will," Lucius replied. "Crabbe…get Draco."

Draco watched in surprise as the heavyset man clomped over to him and dragged him over to where Ginny was standing. The redhead tried to keep her face blank, but she didn't have as much practice with the tactic as Draco did, and her pain registered clearly in her expression. Draco tried to communicate to her with his eyes that it was all right, he'd been through worse before, but judging from the worry on her face it appeared she hadn't gotten the message.

With a flick of Lucius' wand, the ties restraining Draco, including the gag, disappeared. "Ginny," he began, "don't-"

Draco's words were cut off at that point as he was hit with the most crippling pain he had ever experienced. He collapsed, his lips pressed together tightly to keep from screaming, but it was no use, the sound was pulled from him like an anchor from the deep, he was powerless against the pain, the pain-

The pain abruptly ceased. Draco lifted his head and was shocked to find that Ginny had wrested Crabbe's wand away from him and was now in the process of Stunning Goyle. With a roar of fury Lucius trained his wand on her, and Draco, knowing what he was about to do, propelled himself off the floor to come directly in contact with his fathers' spell. A searing pain ripped across his chest and there was just enough time to see his father's eyes widen in shock and horror before Ginny Stunned him. She quickly treated a fallen Crabbe to the same fate and dropped to her knees at Draco' side. When she saw what he had saved her from, she immediately began to sob.

There was a deep gash across Draco's chest, and his shirt was already soaked in blood. Looking down at him, Ginny knew that this was a mortal wound, and she began to sob even harder.

"Help!" she screamed. "Help!" Bending over Draco, she kissed his lips sweetly and muttered reassurances as well as healing spells. Nothing had any effect whatsoever. Draco was now struggling to breathe, and as the blood gushed from his wound, his silver eyes tracked hers.

"Ginny," he said calmly, seemingly past pain, "look at me."

She did, although her vision was clouded with tears. "Can you…smile for me?" Draco asked haltingly, and Ginny could practically hear his heartbeat slowing.

She tried. Truly, she did. She smiled through her tears, remembering all those happy, secret afternoons together on the grounds, reliving every kiss. She saw Draco smile as well, and knew that he was reliving them with her, even as she drew his last breaths. With a superhuman effort he reached up to brush her tears away.

'That's better," he murmured, still smiling, and then his eyes drifted closed.

"DRACO, NO! No, no, no…don't leave me, I love you, don't leave me…" Ginny could hear herself screaming as if from somewhere far away. Frantically she kissed Draco's lips, his cheeks still salty from her tears, hoping to revive him, but it did no good. Panicked, Ginny stood up, hoping to run for help, but the room swayed as her moved, and she fell to the floor like a puppet whose strings have been cut. She didn't fully succumb to unconsciousness, but rather lay there limply, staring at the ceiling, unable to look over at Draco's blank face.

If not for the rising and falling motion of her chest when Harry found her mere moments later, he might have believed her dead.


	29. Bist Du Bei Mir

"_If you are with me, then I will gladly go to my death and to my rest. Ah, how pleasant would my end be, if your dear, fair hands shut my faithful eyes…"_

The memorial service didn't last very long, although it felt like forever to Ginny. She didn't feel it was quite fair of God to schedule Draco's funeral the day after Michael Corner's trial, but what did she know. She wasn't even sure if she believed in God, anymore.

If there was any consolation in the entire terrible situation, it was at least Michael got what he deserved - a life sentence in Azkaban. Ginny smiled grimly as she remembered the look on his face when he was introduced to the dementors. She'd done it as much for Draco as she had for herself, knowing that if he were alive he would have wanted Michael prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Before, Ginny might have cared about justice for her own sake, but since Draco's death she'd found it difficult to care about what happened to her anymore. She'd stopped eating almost entirely, so that her normally slender form was now alarmingly frail, and she spent most of her time in bed with the covers drawn up, refusing to speak with anyone. They'd all been against her coming today of course, but she refused to listen. Instead, she'd donned a plain black dress and pearls, the fanciest clothing she had, and sat in the front row like she had every right to be there. Dumbledore nodded directly at her as the entire school seated themselves. Ginny stared at her lap.

All throughout the service, Ginny acted exactly as a person at a funeral was supposed to. She listened to the eulogy. She ate the subdued-looking food. She bowed her head when it was appropriate. She did not cry. She did not speak. She did not pay her respects, because there was no one to pay her respects to. Lucius was in Azkaban where he belonged, and Draco's mother declined the invitation, preferring to hold a private funeral at her home for her son.

When it came time for the music to begin, however, Ginny lost her head completely. Striding over to where the musicians were seated, she asked the pianist if she could borrow his instrument. Looking startled, he obliged. Ginny sat down and began to play Draco's favorite song. She knew he really loved it because when she found out he'd denied it for a week, saying he would never listen to classical music. Ginny hadn't played the piano in years, but Bach had always been one of her favorites too, and this particular song, with it's haunting melody and beautiful lyrics, had stayed with her especially….

When she had finished playing, Ginny could hardly see for the tears pouring down her cheeks. She barely heard the applause as she sprinted away from the crowd, away from explanations and friends, expectations and requirements, leaving behind as well the memory of the only person she would ever love.

**A/N: Not the end - one chapter left. Please leave your thoughts. **


	30. New Beginnings

**Four Years Later **

Ginny hummed along with the radio as she stood at her kitchen counter, slicing ingredients for tonight's salad. She could have just heated something up, but she'd gotten to a place where she liked cooking for herself. At nineteen, she was something of a homebody, hardly ever leaving the house except to go to work. It had been more a year since she'd answered one of her mother's letters. Two since she'd switched from the Wizarding Wireless to the regular Muggle news.

Three since she'd snapped her wand in half and renounced the world into which she had been born.

It hadn't been an easy decision, but she knew in her heart that it was what she needed. It was more than not wanting to be reminded of _him,_ although that was certainly part of it. It was more that she felt as though she'd used up her share of disasters for one lifetime. After all, how many times can one heart be maimed and expect to go on beating?

Ginny's musings were interrupted by a crisp knock at the door. Frowning, Ginny dried her hands, unsure of who it might be. She rarely had visitors, and so didn't bother to glance through the peephole and identify the person standing in the hallway. If she had, she would have been tempted to lock the deadbolt and utilize the fire escape for something other than it's express intended purpose. But she didn't, and was thus wholly surprised to see Harry Potter standing there, looking halfway between ashamed and determined.

Ginny stood quite still in the doorway, completely stunned. She'd made it quite clear that she wanted nothing to do with the Wizarding world, and yet here Harry stood on her doorstep, a tangible reminder of everything that she'd been trying to escape. Still, there was another part of her that was irrationally glad to see him. Apart from the fact that she was sure he would bring news of her family and Voldemort (both of which she secretly desperately needed to hear, despite her insistence on the opposite), she was just glad to see Harry himself. He had filled out a bit since the last time she saw him, and the stubble on his cheeks looked like it had been neglected for a day or three. His hair was also shaggy, and his glasses slightly askew.

"What're you doing here?" Ginny blurted out before she could stop herself. "Did my mother send you to check up on me? What's going on with You-Know-Who? Where are Ron and Hermione?"

Harry rubbed his temples tiredly before glancing back at her. "I'd be happy to answer every one of your questions if you would just let me in. I feel a little conspicuous just standing in the hallway like this."

Ginny realized he was right, and with a sigh she opened her door all the way to allow Harry to enter.

"If you're here to try to get me to come back, I'm not interested," Ginny said, shutting the door, but it didn't come out as harshly as she'd intended. Even to her own ears it sounded fake, the sort of excuse that would burst out of a drug addict when confronted with an intervention. Before she could even finish her sentence, Harry was shaking his head. She braced herself for his plea, but when it came, it was not what she'd expected.

"Christ, Ginny!" he exclaimed. "I'm not here to get you to come back. I'm here because I needed a place to stay."

His voice sounded so much older than the last time she'd heard it. It wasn't deeper, or if it was it was only by a fraction, but the last time she'd spoken with Harry, he'd sounded like a teenager. Now she could hear all the years of an old man in his voice, as if the weight of the world had settled for good upon his weary shoulders. With a shock, she realized it had.

"Sit down," she ordered brusquely, nodding towards the table. Harry looked confused and opened his mouth to protest, but she shot a very Mrs. Weasely-esque look at him and he hastily complied.

"What would you like to drink?" Ginny asked him, her hand resting lightly on the fridge handle.

"Got any firewhiskey?" came his tired voice from the her only chair. She'd done away with the others after she realized her complete lack of desire for human interaction. She had no idea how to respond to his request, so she laughed uneasily. He paused while polishing his glasses and smiled at her rather bleakly.

"I wasn't kidding."

For some reason, that just made her laugh even harder, and the sight of her leaning against the fridge for support, peals of mirth shaking her small frame, sent him into hysterics as well. When they had both recovered enough to speak, Ginny reached for the wine rack that sat above the freezer. A coworker at the grocery had given her a few bottles of cheap red wine at Christmas.

"I don't drink," Ginny protested when she saw the gift. The older woman eyed her speculatively.

"You live alone, don't you?"

"Yes…" Ginny admitted hesitantly, bewildered at the direction this conversation had taken.

"Then trust me, you drink."

Ginny hadn't known what to say to that, so she'd thanked the woman and taken the bottles home to stow on top of her freezer. She took down one of them now, blew the dust off it gently.

"Wine okay?" she asked Harry. He simply looked at her. She felt nervous for some reason. It was odd, neither of them talking about the things they should or acting the way she'd expected. It was odd, having him in her kitchen. But it was not unpleasant.

"Wine is fine," Harry told her at last, then smiled again at the unintentional rhyme. So she poured him a glass of red and one for herself too, and she turned on her beat-up, duct-taped radio and they sang along to old Beatles songs while she cooked. It was only after the plates were cleared and they were on their second glass of wine that Ginny gathered enough courage to ask him about the important things.

"So," she began.

"So," he echoed, but his tone was not mocking. He seemed to both understand and respect that now was the time she'd marked for Answers.

"Is…everyone okay?"

He laughed bitterly. "Okay? No. Alive? Yes."

"And Voldemort?"

He seemed surprised at her casual use of the name. Of course he wouldn't understand that in the three years since she'd been gone it had ceased to hold any meaning for her. Voldemort had become like a childhood nightmare - she could still remembered the fear the thought of him used to evoke, but he was in the past now. Unless he resorted to mass Muggle killings, he would not haunt her future.

"Still at large," Harry answered after a moment. "Of course he is, what the hell else did we expect? Sometimes I really wonder if we're not just wasting time with all this. What's the point of resisting, anyway? Our deaths will just be that much more pointless, in the end."

Ginny was stunned. Essentially she felt exactly the same, but to hear Harry talking that way made her so furious she began to shake. Seizing him by the shirt collar, he pulled him out of his seat, so that his shocked green eyes were only inches from her own.

"You listen to me," she growled, her voice low and fierce. "If you give up, it's over, all right? The entire fucking world will disintegrate and it will be _your fault_. Do you want that on your conscience? Think, Harry! Think about all the people that died so that we could keep on fighting! Think about…" But she couldn't go on. She released Harry and collapsed, sobbing. She hadn't cried in nearly three years, but it was all coming back now. She could practically hear Draco's voice as he made his last request, asked her to smile one more time for him.

After a moment her sobs quieted and she was aware of Harry's cool hands at the nape of her neck, dragging her back to the present. Dimly she realized that she was now cradled in his lap, and wondered without much interest how that had occurred. Perhaps he had caught her when she'd lost control of her limbs. Yes, that seemed likely…

Harry's hand was suddenly gone from her hair and she felt like asking him not to stop, it felt nice. But before she could even form the request his hand was back, rubbing gentle circles on her back, relieving her tension. His other hand wiped away the tears that still shone on her face, and he rocked her back and forth gently. Ginny's eyes drifted shut and her breathing slowed, but she did not fall asleep. After a while, Harry spoke.

"You know, I didn't just come here because I need a place to stay."

She looked up at him, tears glistening on her eyelashes, and waited. To his credit, he did not look away.

"Why did you come, Harry?" Ginny murmured, her voice so soft she could hardly hear it herself.

There was such sadness in his eyes - she had not expected that, and it caught her wholly unprepared. She'd always just sort of assumed that no one had suffered like she had, but now she saw that she had been naïve even to think such a thing. How could she question, even for a moment, the guilt and pain that he certainly felt, even now, after years had passed? Of course he would blame himself, that was just the way he was. She'd blamed him too, in the beginning, before she realized that that was just another method of diverting the pain. Ginny thought of how lonely he must have been, and her heart ached for him.

"Isn't it obvious," he whispered, and her heart beat a little faster as he continued, "Ginny, I'm here because I wanted to see _you_. I think about you all the time, wonder if you're okay, how you cope with it all. I drive myself crazy thinking of things I could have done differently, ways he could still be alive…" his voice trembled. Ginny had an insane urge to stroke his scratchy cheek, but held back, waiting for him to finish. "And then I think about you, all the pain I must have caused you, and I try to think of some way I could have…" he had to stop for a moment, swallow hard. When he spoke again, his voice was low and soft as velvet.

"I still remember the way you looked when I found you on that balcony - so small and…and broken…that was when it started. Since then I haven't been able to get you out of my head, not for one second. I'm so sorry, Ginny, for everything. I know that you probably hate me, and I know I deserve it, but I can't help it…"

She could see it coming, distantly, bearing down on her like a freight train. "Stop!" she wanted to shout, but her vocal cords were frozen. And then he said it.

"I love you."

"Fuck!"

Ginny struggled to disentangle herself from Harry's arms. "Let me go," she hissed, and confused though he was, he obliged. She was on her feet all of a sudden, her heart threatening to explode out of her chest. She wanted to scream at Harry. She wanted to run as far from him as she possibly could. But there was something else she wanted, more powerful than the rest, and that was what won out, in the end. That, and the way he looked sitting there with his head in his hands. So lost. He needed her, she realized suddenly, and the idea jangled her nerves in an entirely pleasant way.

"Come here," she commanded, taking his hand. She pulled him to his feet and wrapped her arms around him, slowly, so that he would have the chance to back away if he wanted.

He didn't, and carefully, hesitantly, she pressed her lips to his.

His response was immediate and memorable. Gasping, he wound his arms around her and pressed her to him, holding her close but gently enough that it did not trigger any unpleasant flashbacks. His tongue teased her mouth open with a skill and confidence she had not expected, and she kissed him back ardently. After a moment, though, they had to breathe. He did not let go of her, but rather pressed her against the refrigerator in such a way that made her skin itch deliciously.

"Where did you learn to kiss like _that?_" Ginny exclaimed when she had her breath back. He smiled crookedly.

"Quidditch is not my only innate talent," he breathed into her ear, and began exploring her neck in a way that made it difficult to concentrate.

"Harry, that tickles! Oh, my god. No, don't stop, that felt good…"

He looked up at her with a wicked glint in his eye, and she smiled back just as devilishly. "Follow me," she said, and, not quite sure where she was getting the confidence to do this, she led him to her bedroom. As soon as the door was in sight, he swept her off her feet and carried her to the bed, where he kissed her so sweetly she forgot her own name, and all her worries faded to nothing. She forgot that everything that had happened to her, everything that she had suffered, and just gave herself completely to this one perfect moment, his lips moving tandem with hers and his arms encircling her, keeping her safe from harm.

___________________________

For the first time in years, Ginny fell asleep and stayed that way for eight blissful hours. When she awoke, she was amused to find that Harry, who had fallen asleep holding her close, was now curled up against the wall along with most of her covers. She scooted over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," she sang in his ear. When that didn't work, she tried kissing his neck. Almost before she knew what had happened, he was awake and kissing her back.

"Good morning," he greeted her throatily, smiling down at her so that the corners of his eyes crinkled in a shamefully adorable way.

"Good morning," Ginny replied shyly, aware for the first time of the awkwardness of waking up with a boy you _didn't _sleep with last night in your bed. She still had her shoes on, for God's sake - what was wrong with her?!

Harry didn't seem to be thinking along those same lines at all. At present he was completely absorbed in the curve of her jaw, tracing it with his nose a few times before planting kisses all the way down her neck to her collarbone.

"Harry," Ginny began, pushing him away with as much strength as she could muster considering that was actually quite enjoyable. "We need to talk."

Sighing, Harry stopped kissing her and put a respectable distance between them, propping himself up on his elbow so as to see her better. "Don't say that. That's what people say when they're breaking up with someone, isn't it? And you can't be breaking up with me because we're not together yet." He smiled triumphantly, obviously impressed with his own airtight logic.

"We're not?" The words burst out of Ginny before she could stop them, and immediately she wished she could take them back. In the open air they sounded needy and pathetic and not at all surprised or confused, which was definitely what she'd intended. She struggled to regroup.

"I mean, last night you said that you…_loved _me, and then I kissed you, so…"

"You forgot the part where you freaked out," Harry teased her. "What was that about, anyway? I was the one hanging myself out to dry, there."

Ginny felt a surge of anger sweep through her, and she reminded herself that it did no good to get angry, it wasn't Harry's fault. "The last time someone told me that, I ended up watching him die," she told him, quietly, staring at the bed sheet. Harry was completely still for a moment, and then before she knew it he had crushed her to him tightly.

"I'm so sorry," he told her. "Can you ever forgive me?"

Ginny looked up into his anxious green eyes and felt the pain melt away once more. "There's nothing to forgive," she told him truthfully, and he pressed her to him once again, unable to express his gratitude in words.

Ginny never knew how long they lay there just listening to the other's breathing. They might have fallen asleep again, or maybe not. It didn't seem to matter. After an eternity, or just a few moments, Harry squeezed her arm gently.

"I have to go," he admitted with regret, and there was such sorrow and longing in his voice that it made Ginny's breath catch. "I'll tell your family you're all right, okay?"

"Okay," Ginny agreed, fighting the irrational urge to burst into tears. She would see him again, she knew. Fate wouldn't be that cruel. It was this thought that put a smile on her face as she kissed him goodbye and walk away down the street, looking back at her ever chance he got. Looking at him then, she knew that she loved him, and in that one shining moment, the war was as good as won.

**A/N: All right, all right, so I'm a softie after all. Cheers for a happy(ish?) ending. Oh, and in case you're wondering: Draco and Ginny never had sex. I realize I didn't make that abundantly clear, but they didn't, and neither did Harry and Ginny, although I considered it for a while in this last chapter. ;) Also, I realize that in this universe Ginny does end up with Harry and yes that is awfully canon of me, but I always thought he should have to work a little harder to win her love, rather than having it freely given. Also, I wanted to give Draco a noble end because he turns out to be such a ferret in the last book - talk about a static character! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this half as much as I enjoyed writing it, and that you'll stay tuned in the future for any more fanfiction I may decide to write. **

**All right, enough of my rambling - peace. : ) **


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